


just like the river

by GucciAspirin



Category: Glee
Genre: Background Brittana - Freeform, Background Finchel, Background Samcedes, Diet Angst, F/F, Friends to Lovers, did i mention sllllooowwwburn, punk!quinn, rachel is oblivious, rip ryan murphy im different, slowburn, this is canon compliant except for when it's totally not canon compliant, yes it is 2019
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2020-12-23 12:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 62,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21080648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GucciAspirin/pseuds/GucciAspirin
Summary: There’s a Quinn Fabray that no one else knows. Rachel Berry is determined to change that.(Season 3 AU/ Canon divergence)[semi hiatus]





	1. Quinn Fabray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Marijuana mentioned

Quinn Fabray always knew that Rachel Berry would ruin her life. She’d known the moment Rachel laid eyes on Finn Hudson sophomore year, maybe even before that.

They didn’t talk much prior to Glee, but there was always something about her. There was the way she’d clench her jaw right before she got slushied, and the way she’d always just move on. Brush it off. There was the flicker of determination she got every time someone insulted her. How that same jaw would set, and her brown eyes would glow, almost fucking sparkle like she was some cartoon character.

There was:_ Ru Paul, Man hands, Freak, That thing, Stubbles, Treasure Trail, Troll, Hobbit, Dwarf, Hobbit. And there was Rachel acting like none of that mattered._

There was the superiority she somehow managed after everything.

Rachel has always known she was going to get out of this stupid fucking town. She’s always known that she’s better than this place, better than the people.

Quinn tried to break her. There were times where it looked like she might just succeed. That big mouth would go silent, and brown eyes would glisten, and her jaw would slacken. But she always bounced back.

Rachel Berry is fucking invincible. Trying to break her only left Quinn with a shattered fist, metaphorically speaking.

Quinn used to think God was punishing her, but looking back on it all, it was probably just karma.

Quinn takes in a deep breath and closes her eyes, opens them, and then punches her wall. It helps keep the edge off. She looks down at her hand, now red and covered with flecks of black paint. It stings, and she can already see the slight discoloration of a bruise forming.

“Honey, are you okay?” her mother asks from downstairs. Quinn doesn’t answer. She runs her left index finger over the inflamed knuckles of her right hand. Maybe she should have just smoked a cigarette. This is the third hole she’s put in her wall this month.

“I’m only asking because I heard a loud noise,” comes the follow-up.

Quinn rolls her eyes, grabs her backpack and leaves her room; making sure to clamp down the padlock on her door so her mom won’t try doing her laundry again. “I’m fine,” Quinn says as she walks downstairs. “Shouldn’t you be at work?” she asks as she walks into the kitchen. Her mother is scrambling up eggs. Both of them jump as the toast pops up.

“I thought I’d go into the office a little later. It’s your first day of senior year, after all.” She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, which are currently flickering up and down Quinn’s outfit. Her mother hates Quinn’s new look. Like, a probably prays about it in church kind of hatred. The good thing is since she’d been such an awful bitch last year with the whole letting Quinn get kicked out thing, she doesn’t really have a leg to stand on concerning Quinn’s wardrobe. Her mother has always hated confrontation, that plus the emotional blackmail makes it pretty easy for Quinn to get away with whatever she wants.

Quinn manages a tight smile. “Thanks, but I have to get going.” Quinn grabs a hot piece of toast and fumbles with it in her hands for a few seconds. The dexterity in her right hand is still a little rigid after the wall.

“Really, Quinn?” her mother says, and for a moment Quinn thinks that she’s about to challenge her. “I just thought we could have breakfast. This is the first day of your last year, after all.”

Quinn is already headed for the door. “Don’t make it such a big deal,” she says. “I have to pick up The Mack.”

Her mother’s smile falters.

Whenever Quinn’s father used to do something that her mother didn’t like she would give him a very specific look. A blank stare accompanied by knitted eyebrows and pursed lips. Most people had no idea that was a sign of her mother’s disapproval. She never said anything, and most of the time her father didn't even notice it; but Quinn always did.

She’s giving Quinn that look right now.

Quinn pauses in the doorway. “Thanks again,” she says quietly before leaving the house.

Once she’s outside she can breathe again. But it’s then that she remembers that she’s going back to school.

And Rachel is at school.

She curls her fist, wincing at the pain. She can’t punch walls at school.

“Let’s skip,” she tells The Mack once they’re both situated in the car.

The Mack rolls down her window and lights a cigarette. Quinn follows her example, and let’s the Mack light hers up.

“Can’t. Selling Jacob an illegal shipment of Kinder Eggs I got the other day from the imports driver.” She flicks her cigarette against the window seal to get rid of some building ash. “And after that I was gonna beat him up and steal the eggs back; then sell them to Lauren Zizes.”

“Oh,” is all Quinn says. Understandable.

“Why do you wanna skip? It’s only the first day.”

Quinn shrugs. “School is lame.” She lets her cigarette fall out of the window.

The Mack sniffs a few times. “Your car...did you wash it?”

Dammit. “My mom did while I was touching up my roots.” She tried to leave McDonald's in her car overnight to get rid of the pine scent.

“It’s awful,” The Mack says, flicking her wrist to let the cigarette fly outside of the car. “It’s making me itch. Smells like fucking Christmas.”

On the upside, The Mack’s stench might be enough to get the scent of pine out of her car. Right now she can barely smell anything that isn’t raw onion. If someone told Quinn a year ago that she would be hanging out with someone who permanently smelled like weed and expired salsa, she would have laughed.

Now she finds it freeing. Not having to care about her appearance, or her future, or people, or Rachel Berry.

As Quinn walks through the hallways, she takes in the stares and whispers. This isn’t new for her, but the reason is. She ignores it.

Who cares, she thinks; and then Quinn smiles.

It’s all so much easier when she doesn’t care.

She doesn’t even care when Santana and Brittany practically beg her to come back to the Cheerios and Glee.

Suckers.

They’re still caged, and she’s free.

But that all comes fucking crashing down when Rachel fucking Berry visits her in the fucking faculty parking garage. She’s so annoying. The type of annoying that physically hurts. This tiny rattling thought that’s _so loud_. The blood is rushing to Quinn’s head and she doesn’t know if she can even think properly.

“Hey Quinn.” A pause, and Quinn’s heart is beating a little faster. She takes a quick drag of her cigarette. “Hello...skanks.”

“Your friend stinks of soap, Quinn,” Ronnie says. It’s true. Quinn can smell Dove mixed with body spray - probably something like: sea shore dreams.

It’s comforting. Not Rachel smelling nice, but the fact that the skanks are there with her. Still, she does a quick once over of Rachel and it makes her slightly dizzy.

“We were friends once,” Rachel says, in a way that’s so painfully raw that it has to be true. “Okay, and maybe when you cut off all of your hair last year and thought it would solve all of your problems, I should've spoken up. Maybe when you dropped out of society and started dating that 40 year old skateboarder, I should have said-”

“I’m not coming back to glee club.”

But Rachel doesn’t stop. She never fucking stops. Quinn wishes she had a wall.

When Rachel talks, it’s like everything builds up in Quinn at once. She’s annoying as hell, and she never gets to the point, and she’s overly insistent. And yet, Quinn always listens.

Even now.

Quinn tells herself she doesn’t care. That’s why she’s here with the skanks. But the way Rachel is pleading with her makes Quinn want to care for a moment. It also makes her want to run away.

It’s different than Santana and Brittany’s talk with her.

Rachel isn’t a sucker.

Rachel is Rachel.

But Quinn is Quinn.

“I’ll give you ten bucks if you let me beat her up for you, Quinn,” The Mack says, but Quinn doesn’t acknowledge her.

“I’m sorry you’re so sad, Quinn, and maybe you’re not going to believe me because we were never really close, but I’m sad not seeing you in the choir room and we’ve all been through so much together, we’re a family, and this is our year to get it right.”

Quinn feels the mask slipping. She tilts her head to the side and wonders what makes Rachel try so hard. Her chest is tight, mouth and lips dry. _Get it right_. She’s never known how to do that. When they were sitting together and writing songs, even then she wasn’t sure what she wasn’t doing.

“We would love to have you back in the Glee club, whenever you’re ready, okay?”

Why does she just assume that Quinn will ever be ready? Quinn licks her lips and swallows the lump forming in her throat. She then opens her mouth the tiniest bit, just to say something - anything that will come.

Rachel gives her a quick nod and walks away.

“Quinn.”

Quinn turns around sharply to look at Sheila. “What?” she says, taking a drag out of her cigarette.

“I don’t care how bad Mrs.Clean wants to go down to kitty town, if she comes here again I’ll stab her.”

“It’s the school parking lot,” Quinn says, lazily. “And what the hell does that even mean?” She takes another hit from the cigarette and shakes off the ash. “She won’t come here again.”

“Whatever,” The Mack says. “There are more important things to discuss.”

“Like?” asks Ronnie.

“Our roles,” The Mack says with a quick roll of her eyes. “Since Dani graduated I think it’s clear that Quinn fills the repressed, tortured lesbian.”

Quinn’s eyes widen at that. “Wait what?”

The Mack sighs. “You gotta be tortured to be a skank. Keep up, Quinn. Ronnie is the tortured foster kid.” Ronnie nods like this is a completely normal conversation that they’re all having. “Sheila is the tortured probably serial killer. I’m the tortured mother who had to give up their kid.”

Quinn shoots up her hand to interject as she’s reminded painfully of Beth. “I had to give up my-”

“Yeah but I was here first,” The Mack says, cutting her off. “No doubles. That’s tacky.”

Quinn drops her cigarette, stomping it out with a twist of her foot. “Isn’t the entire purpose of the skanks _not_ to have labels?” she says, and then adds, “Besides. I’m not a-” she doesn’t finish.

All of a sudden it feels like she’s on the Cheerios, sabotaging girls to get to the top of the pyramid.

They’d never discussed roles over the summer. They didn’t discuss much of anything, really.

“Hey. It’s not a big deal, Quinn. Just gotta establish ourselves.”

“I’m not establishing myself as a tortured teenage lesbian,” she grits out. The whole reason she joined the skanks was so that she didn’t have to think about this.

About the way Rachel Berry makes her feel sometimes. Like the world is too much, and too little all at once. Thinking about that make her dizzy. It makes her make rash decisions like cutting off all her hair and dying it pink and getting a nose ring and joining a gang called the skanks.

“We don’t care,” The Mack says, sympathetically.

“My hamsters are gay,” Ronnie says.

Quinn doesn’t want to talk about this.

“But whatever,” The Mack continues. “You can just be the tortured former catholic. That might be even better.”

“I was Presbyterian”

“We don’t care about your diet either,” Sheila says with a look that Quinn thinks is supposed to be soothing.

Quinn’s just content that the conversation has shifted.

* * *

At the end of the day Quinn goes into the auditorium from the back. The Glee club is there, happy and singing. Rachel is there. With Finn.

She leaves as fast as she came.

* * *

It’s later that night when she’s in her room, staring at the hole in her wall, that she hears the doorbell. She ignores it, of course.

“Quinnie!” she hears from down stairs. “You’ve got a friend.”

Quinn doesn’t ignore that. None of the skanks would bother with the doorbell.

She stares at the hole again, and thinks about doubling up on the spot. Instead she takes in a deep breath and slumps back down. “Tell them to go away.”

“Okay, I’m letting her up now!”

“Mom!”

There is a knock on the door, and then: “Quinn? It’s Rachel.”

The wall has never looked so tempting. That feeling comes back, where everything is swarming her thoughts and making her feel absolutely fucking crazy for a moment. It isn’t anger, it isn’t love, it isn’t excitement. It’s just. Everything.

“Um. You weren’t in geography, and I was supposed to give you the syllabus. I didn’t want to do it earlier in front of um...your skanks.”

“Go away, Rachel.”

“Quinn your education is imperative to the foundation of what you’ll do next in life. It may seem like it’s just a syllabus, but I think you’ll find that it’s a slippery slope when it comes to ignoring academia. My dads once showed me a statistic that read 67% of students who don’t actually read through their syllabus go on to get depression in later years of life - and I know that you’re sad right now, but-”

Quinn opens the door just to shut Rachel up. It works, but then she’s face to face with a wide-eyed Rachel. Rachel looks at her, and then behind her. She spots the holes in the wall, and the opened window with an ashtray resting on the seal.

She sniffs the stale air of Quinn’s room, and her eyes nearly bulge out of her head. Rachel lowers her head, and asks, “Are you smoking ...marijuana.”

Quinn rolls her eyes. “The Syllabus.”

“Okay Quinn, I know that you’re going through some things right now - but marijuana is a gateway drug.”

“Yeah, meth is next,” she says.

“Quinn!” She pushes her way into the room, shaking her head. “Marijuana is the fifth leading cause of female balding patterns before 26.”

“Your dads tell you that too?”

“It isn’t funny!”

Quinn holds out her hand. “Trust me, I’m far from amused. Syllabus.”

Rachel glares up at her, but digs through her bag nonetheless. She takes out a single piece of paper and hands it to Quinn.

Quinn thinks of using it as rolling paper just to get a reaction out of Rachel, but decides against it. She does reach for a cigarette though after setting the syllabus down on her bed.

Rachel smacks it out of her hand.

“Leave,” Quinn says, her voice low. She’s over this. She’s over being exhausted, and wound up all at the same time. She doesn’t want to fake it right now. Quinn just wants to lay down, close her eyes and rest. Maybe with a joint.

“Quinn, while you weren’t the best singer in glee club -”

“Rachel.”

“What I’m saying is, you have a lovely voice. I’m not going to let you ruin that over a stick of evil made by a company that profits from death and disease.” Her hands are now resting against her hips. There it is, that classic Rachel Berry air of superiority.

Quinn grinds her teeth, jaw and fist both clenching. “Alright, you gave me the syllabus now you can go home.” She puts her hands on Rachel’s shoulders and begins to push her out.

“Wait!” Rachel yelps, holding her ground as she digs her feet into the wood flooring.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Quinn says. She pushes harder because damn has Rachel always been this strong? “Rachel get out.”

“No. We need to talk.”

“We talked earlier. You said what you needed. I’m never going back to the glee club, so just let it-” she grunts, “go!” With a hard push both of them are tumbling down.

Quinn is clumsily splayed on top of Rachel, her heart hammering even louder than before. She glares down at her unwelcomed guest.

“Ow,” Rachel says, eyes fluttering open. She feels the back of her head. “Quinn I know you’re mad, but trying to kill me isn’t the answer.”

Quinn freezes for a moment. Their bodies are flush, and she can feel Rachel’s breath against her cheek. She might just punch a hole in the floor at this point.

With a deep breath (where she can smell Rachel’s shampoo, and dove soap, and the faintest hint of body spray) Quinn gets up to her feet. She doesn’t help Rachel.

“Honey?” her mother calls. “You okay?”

“Yeah!”

“You want some sandwiches?”

Rachel calls out, “Yes!” when Quinn says, “No!”

Quinn shoots Rachel another glare. It’s like she wants Quinn to be a bitch.

Rachel smiles and clasps her hands together.

“Crust off like usual?”

Silence.

Rachel’s eyes flit around the room once more, and Quinn thinks that Rachel will finally let her talk.

“Yes!” Quinn shouts.

“Judy is nice,” Rachel says.

“Yeah she’s a real peach when she’s not letting me get kicked out. What do you want?”

Rachel winces before letting out a small breath. “I want you to come back,” she says.

“No. Are we done?”

“No,” Rachel says with a slight edge to her voice. Quinn doesn’t understand where Rachel’s getting the nerve to act annoyed. She’s the one that’s barged into Quinn’s room. “If you’re not going to come back can you at least...can we just talk?”

“We’re talking now.”

“Quinn,” Rachel starts. “I don’t know what exactly happened to you. And I know that you’ve been through a lot. I know that you’re strong but - sometimes strong things can break. You’re better than,” she lifts her hands haplessly, “this.”

Quinn shakes her head. She has to remember to breath, once in and once out. Rachel couldn’t be more wrong.

“Maybe I’m not,” she says. “Maybe I don’t want those kind of expectations anymore.” Beautiful Quinn Fabray. Head cheerleader Quinn Fabray. Glee club Quinn Fabray. Girlfriend Quinn Fabray. Teen pregnancy Quinn Fabray.

None of it means anything.

She doesn’t want to think about the future anymore. Especially not when Rachel is looking at her like that. With shining eyes and a heavy heart.

There’s a Quinn Fabray that no one else knows.

The one who is in love with a girl. A girl she’s not supposed to want, a girl she can’t want. A girl she can’t have. And this longing in her chest that breaks her heart a million times every day.

She’s not strong.

When Quinn was thirteen her father told her she was weak-willed compared to Frannie. He wasn’t cruel about it, it was just something he’d said one day. Frannie was coming back from tennis practice, and Quinn was 60 pounds overweight and reading Twilight. He told her, “You could be like Frannie, Quinn. If you weren’t so weak-willed.” He was smiling, and no one said anything about it. That’s how Quinn knew it was true.

“They’re not expectations,” Rachel says. Quinn meets her eyes, but has to look away almost immediately. “You’ll get out of Lima. And you’re going to be something_ great_ because you’re Quinn Fabray. Not because of any labels people have put on you, and not because people expect it.”

She hates this. There is this violent thing clawing away inside of her chest, and Quinn just wants to scream until it all goes away.

Both of them look at the door when they hear Judy approaching. She has a plate with two sandwiches cut in half. “They’re peanut butter and preserves,” she says before looking at the new hole in the wall. Her mother takes in a deep breath and grimaces.

Quinn’s expecting a lecture like she got with Rachel, but it doesn’t come. Her mother leaves with a polite nod.

When she’s away, Rachel continues, “You’re smart, Quinn. As smart as you are pretty.”

“What do you want from me, Rachel?”

Rachel grins. “Well, I want you to rejoin the glee club. But even if you don’t just...please don’t throw everything you have away. If not for me, for your friends - do it for yourself, Quinn.”

Quinn sucks in a quick breath and exhales slowly. “You wouldn’t understand.” Quinn almost says that it’s been easy for Rachel. But it hasn’t. She’s put Rachel through hell, along with several others at school. And still, Rachel is here.

“Then talk to someone who might,” Rachel says. She stands and flattens out her crumpled dress.

“Why are you doing this?” Quinn asks.

Rachel gives a sad, little smile. “Because you’re my friend.” She starts to make her exit when Quinn calls out her name.

“Don’t...don’t come to the lower level of the faculty garage anymore,” Quinn says.

Rachel’s eyebrows furrow as her lips form a terse frown

“Sheila kind of said she would stab you,” Quinn explains, looking down at her hands. She then looks up. “Just-listen. If you want to meet up again text me first.”

“I don’t have your new number.”

“Gimme your phone,” Quinn says. Rachel does, and she quickly types in her number and hands it back.

Rachel sucks in her lips, her face contorting into a child-like smile. “You won’t regret this.”

“Take your sandwich,” Quinn says.

“Oh I wasn’t actually hungry. I just wanted to stay a little longer. You were being stubborn.”

“Get out,” Quinn says with a sigh, but there is no malice in it.

And then she’s gone. Her flowery scent still lingers making it a thousand times harder for Quinn to think.

Quinn told herself at the start of the summer that she wouldn’t cry over Rachel Berry. She’d allowed herself one day to feel bad, one day to really let it sink in - and then she’d pushed it all away.

But now the tears are spilling without her consent, ebbing from the corners of her eyes and falling down her cheeks.

She’s in love with Rachel Berry.

Quinn sits down on her bed and holds the pillow tight to her chest. It was never supposed to be like this.

She’d first seen Rachel on her first day of freshman year.

American Literature.

She’d raised her hand 15 minutes into the class and gave a long winded speech about how she considered _Funny Girl_ to be one of the best pieces of American Literature to date. The teacher said that it wasn’t because Funny Girl was a film; and this led Rachel to go on another long winded speech about the influence of plays and scripts in literature. She didn’t stop talking until the bell rang.

Quinn thought it was the most obnoxious thing she’d ever seen in her life. And that was saying something because her sister could be maddening.

But she thought about nothing else for an entire week. The confidence she had, the way she carried herself like she wasn’t being a complete freak. The carelessness of it all.

Rachel was someone who would be important, and it didn’t matter what other people thought.

Quinn was just trying to figure out which football player she would marry after high school.

Rachel was thinking about Broadway.

Quinn was thinking about the nuclear family. She was thinking about the idea of perfect.

Rachel made her question that idea of perfect, and Quinn sometimes hated her for it. 

Rachel was Rachel.

Quinn was Quinn.

So of fucking course Rachel would ruin her life.

Her phone dings and she goes to check it.

**Rachel:** _You better start preparing your vocals, Quinn! <3_

Quinn throws the thing across the room, half hoping it will break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hellooo ... I've already written over half of this story (I currently have around 50k words). I'm going to update once a week with 2-4 chapters posted at once. This starts out canon compliant, but it's going to diverge more and more from canon as it goes on; still there will be a lot of s3 canon references. rip to ryan murphy but if i wrote glee things woulda been different.


	2. Rachel Berry

Rachel Berry always thought that Quinn Fabray would ruin her life. Which, Rachel thinks, is a fair conclusion considering all of the things Quinn Fabray has done to her.

They didn’t talk much before Glee, but Rachel’s always watched her.

Their relationship truly started the second week of school when Quinn had so colorfully said, “Move it man-hands,” before pushing Rachel onto the floor.

It didn’t even make sense. 1.) Rachel had (and still has!) very delicate, small hands. In fact her dance instructor told her they were soft as a babies. 2.) Rachel was not in the way.

She might not have been so bothered if Quinn wasn’t the prettiest girl Rachel had ever seen in her life. Too pretty, really. Blond, symmetrical face, lithe and toned body, gorgeous eyes. Really it was just ridiculous. Borderline off-putting.

Anyways, Quinn had proceeded to make her life a living hell. The slushies, the drawings, the names._ Ru Paul, Man hands, Freak, That thing, Stubbles, Treasure Trail, Troll, Hobbit, Dwarf, Hobbit._

It was humiliating, but Rachel knew that she was only being bullied because she’d be the one to get out of this town. She wouldn’t give Quinn Fabray the satisfaction. So for every slushie, Rachel clenched her jaw, cleaned up, and moved on with her day. She was different. She wasn’t going to let it get to her because she had a voice that was going to take her to the top.

Rachel Berry was and will always be a star, and stars don’t break so easily (except for the ones that get vandalized on the Hollywood walk of fame, but that's very much a future concern).

Rachel Berry could also never hate Quinn Fabray, try as she might. She couldn’t really hate anyone, but something about Quinn in particular always stuck with Rachel. And even though they were different, sometimes it felt like they were the same.

They could both be lonely.

And while Rachel wouldn’t classify herself as lost because she knew where she was headed, and she knew who she would end up being - she could empathize with Quinn. She knew what is was like to be afraid of getting stuck.

They also could both be selfish. Painstakingly selfish.

To Rachel, that’s not always a bad quality. No one's ever gotten anywhere by not taking everything they could get.

So no - Rachel could never hate Quinn. She should. High school has certainly given her a complex when it comes to appearance. High school has made her cry at night. It’s made her shave her body from head to toe. It’s made her think, in silent, brief moments; that she - Rachel Berry - was worthless.

But through it all, Rachel’s managed to find a place for herself. She's even managed to make a friend out of Quinn Fabray.

Rachel might not always be the best friend in the world, but friends don’t let each other drown. She knows that.

“What are you smiling at?” Finn asks, squeezing her hand. He has that lazy grin on his face that makes Rachel’s heart pound just a little faster than normal.

She licks her thumb and takes it to his forehead to comb down a stray cowlick. He must have not brushed it today.

“You,” she says. She bites her lip and looks at her watch.

Finn’s face falls.

Rachel has an allotted, scheduled time where she talks about Quinn. It became a thing when Rachel’s concern hit its peak after she found out Quinn was dating a 40 year old skater. Rachel called the police, and may or may not have embellished a few details about the relationship. Of course she didn’t know the details from the beginning, but any 40 year old man who is willing to date a 17 year old girl deserves jail time! Finn told her she shouldn’t meddle, and Rachel said that she didn’t.

Only Kurt knows that she was the anonymous call to the Lima police department.

But, during that time Rachel hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Quinn. She was worried, anyone would be. And so, “Quinn time” was born. A time where Rachel gets 15 minutes to fully express her worry over Quinn’s new alternative lifestyle. It starts at 5:30 - but Rachel’s watch reads as 2:20.

“Just say what’s on your mind,” Finn says, still smiling.

Rachel grins fully now and lets out the breath she’s been holding. “I’m going to convince her to join the Glee club. I just think that she really needs us for…whatever she’s going through. It would be irresponsible if I didn’t at least try.”

“Rachel, you can’t force her to join. You know that right?” He squeezes her hand again. “I know Quinn. Better than you, I think.” Debatable, but doesn’t comment. “She sometimes just has to shut herself out.”

“She’s sad, Finn.” And it’s making Rachel sad.

“I get that, Rachel. I just don’t get why you-” he stops, and sighs.

Rachel lets go of his hand. “Why I what, Finn? Because I don’t understand why you don’t care.” Rachel mulls that over for a moment. She shouldn’t want her boyfriend to care about his ex, but they’re family. They started Glee together, and they’re all going to finish it together. Even if Rachel does have to force Quinn to join. Interestingly enough her and Kurt have been thinking of schemes for the past week; well mostly her, but Kurt has helped.

“I do care, Rachel. I just don’t want you to put Quinn being, well, Quinn on your shoulders. You’re not responsible for what she does.” He grabs her hand again.

“I know that, Finn. I just want glee club to be glee club again. It’s not the same without her.”

He gives a tight smile and rolls his head from left to right. “It isn’t,” he says, finally agreeing.

Rachel preens. “Always.”

“Love you,” he says.

“I love you, too.” He gives her a short kiss, and they break at the sound of the bell.

* * *

Talking to Quinn goes terribly for the most part.

The skanks are highly unpleasant people. Rachel briefly thinks about writing out a strongly worded letter to principal Figgins to explain why they are a nuisance to high school society and should be expelled - but Quinn wouldn’t like that, and Rachel would most certainly get beat up. Or killed. Neither of those would be good stories to tell on Ellen.

But now it’s even more clear to Rachel how unhappy Quinn is.

It isn’t just about the new look. The look actually isn’t bad. It’s kind of alluring. Quinn would make a great Joey if Rachel ever decided to do a second rendition of _Run Joey Run_. It would actually make the song even more provocative because she’s a girl. But that’s a thought for later.

Quinn isn’t happy. And she has picked up the disgusting habit of smoking.

Her behavior isn’t healthy.

The worst part is that Rachel knew this was happening over the summer. Of course, she didn’t see Quinn much, but she’d heard things. Every one talked in Lima. Rachel had just hoped that it would all work out, she was wrapped up in Finn and the fantasy of how great her senior year would be.

So now Rachel is making the decision she didn’t make back then. She’s going to do something about it.

“I’m going to see Quinn again,” Rachel says, after several minutes of mental deliberation.

Kurt raises an eyebrow, his gaze dull. “Okay…” he says. They’re on their way home from an Ohio NYADA student mixer. Kurt’s still sulking because they went there expecting to blow it out of the water, but to both of their surprise, Ohio has a decent amount of talent outside of them. It’s Sunshine Corazon all over again. This time Rachel has grown enough to know that it’s considered bad practice to send your rivals to crack houses even if it isn’t an active crack house. (Rachel does still feel guilty about it). “So we’re transitioning our sulk fest to Quinn now, is that what I’m understanding?”

“Yes,” Rachel says.

“Honey, if trying to convince her the first time didn’t work, what makes you think you’ll fair better a second time. On the same day at that.”

Rachel lets her body fall a little into the seat as she frowns. With a deep breath she lifts herself back up. “She was around those…skanks earlier. I really feel that if we meet on neutral ground she might reconsider.” She looks up at Kurt. “Don’t you want her to come back? It feels empty without every one there.”

Kurt simpers. “Well, I hardly know her - but, it is a little sad in hindsight. I just want you to make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into. Don’t be too disappointed if she tells you to fuck off.”

Rachel stares at him, eyes wide. “Kurt Hummel,” she says with a short gasp, but it turns into a smile.

“If I’m going to be going living in New York I do believe my language can afford to be more…colorful.”

Rachel puts her hand over her heart. “My ears!”

“Yes I know. I’m an absolute bad boy.” He taps her on the knee. “So what’s on the schedule for plan Quinn Fabray?”

Rachel smiles, flashing bright, white teeth. “I need a spare syllabus.”

* * *

All things considered, things go much better with Quinn. Sure, Rachel was kind of tackled to the ground at one point, but she got a number by the end of it.

Quinn Fabray’s number at that. Something that most of the football team can’t even manage.

She trots down stairs, giddy and clutching her phone; but comes to a stop once she spots Judy Fabray looking at her from the living room. “Thank you for the sandwich, Ms. Fabray,” she says, as politely as she can.

Rachel has been through a lot, but she’s always had two amazing parents. The thought that she might be kicked out has never even crossed her mind. She thinks of her relationship with her birth mother, though. The strained way they talk to one another. That’s the only thing she can compare it to, but even then it’s understandable. Shelby didn’t raise Rachel.

There is something about how Judy Fabray doesn’t try that makes Rachel a little peeved. Though she doesn’t show it, and she doesn’t necessarily want to harbor ill-feelings, she can’t help but judge Judy.

“I’m glad you stopped by,” Judy says. There is a genuine, but tired smile resting on her lips. “She - most of her new friends aren’t the most pleasant company. I’m glad she still appears to have her… glee friends.” She wrings her hands together as Rachel walks up towards the door.

“You should tell her that,” Rachel says, touching the handle.

“Hm?”

“You should - you should tell her what you told me. And you should tell her not to smoke.” Rachel bites her lip, and wonders if she’s overstepping - which isn’t something she normally thinks about. Life is about overstepping, after all. “With all due respect, Ms. Fabray, I think Quinn needs a mother.”

Judy looks down at the floor. “She’s just going through a phase. I don’t - I’m not her father. And I’ve hurt her so much already.”

“Being there for her isn’t going to hurt. But this,” she gestures towards upstairs, “She’s hurting. And being passive doesn’t get things done. You have to try.” Rachel opens up the door.

“I’m glad she has friends like you,” Judy says softly. “She needs that too.”

Rachel’s hand hovers over the door knob. She’s got one foot in, one foot out. “You know; I say we’re friends, but really I don’t even know if she likes me sometimes.” She lets out a breathy laugh. Of all the people she could tell this too. “But I am her friend.”

Quinn isn’t supposed to stay in Lima, even if she doesn’t know it. If Rachel made herself believe that at the age of six, she can make Quinn believe that now.

“You should tell her that,” Judy says.

Rachel starts to send a text to Quinn when she’s in bed, almost ready to go to sleep. At first she starts to type out how she’s going to get Quinn to agree to glee club. She deletes it, though. It should be something more solid.

**Rachel:** _You better start preparing your vocals_

Rachel bites her lip and then adds, _“Quinn!”_ at the end of the message to make it seem more personal. But then it seems to formal so she adds a cute, _“<3”_

Perfect.

* * *

Of course Shelby Corcoran is at school the next day. Of course she’s been hired as a new teacher. And of course (of course!) she’s trying to make a rival glee club. It’s all some twisted spin of fate from things going too smoothly last night, maybe.

On top of that, Quinn has not replied to any of her texts.

Not even the one that was a picture of a cute dog eating a French fry with overlay text saying:_ I love Fryday_. Maybe Quinn is a cat person.

Rachel sends Quinn a texts of a cat sitting up-right with a text overlay that says: _Live Laugh Meow._

“Can you hand me the big one?” Finn asks, settled underneath a car at the shop. Rachel looks at all the tools and hands him the biggest one she can find.

“Rachel?”

“Hm?”

“That’s a flashlight.”

Rachel looks at it, rather than giving it a quick glance. It would appear that it is a flashlight.

“You alright?” he asks, moving out from under the car. “I know the stuff with your mother is kinda,” he stops, lips parted and eyes blank. “Well complicated.” He scratches his head.

Rachel smiles. “It’s not just that,” she says. Though her mother has thrown her off. It wasn’t all bad. She got some advice on her West Side Story audition. It’s just - seeing someone who looks so much like her, who acts so much like her at times while knowing that they’re nothing to each other. That Shelby would rather have a baby, Quinn’s baby. “I’m just thinking about a lot right now.”

Finn walks up to her and holds her hands. She feels the slickness of grease on her skin, but can’t find it in herself to break contact. It’s comforting that someone chose her; not because of her voice, but because Rachel is Rachel. “I know that you kind of have a lot to think about, but don’t overwhelm yourself too much, Rach. Soon you’ll be somebody big, and I’ll be next to you and nothing else will matter.”

“Those kids at the NYADA mixer were good, Finn,” she says, voice quiet.

He squeezes her hand. “But they’re not you.”

Rachel nods, lips tilting up the tiniest bit. “What do you want, Finn?”

He laughs and kisses her. “You,” he says, like it’s easy. And Rachel loves when he says that, when he acts like she’s all that he needs in this world. Nobody else would tell her that, nobody else would pick her like that. But the future is vast and big; and she’ll always wonder if that’s true.

Before she has time to comment, an alarm goes off on her phone. 5:30.

“Is Quinn a dog person or cat person?” Rachel asks.

Finn frowns and looks down at Rachel’s phone. “Do you think - I just mean with everything you’ve got going on, do you think you should still be worrying about Quinn?”

“Finn,” Rachel starts, resting her hand on his arm. “She doesn’t have anyone right now. Or, I guess I should say she’s pushing every one away.”

“She wouldn’t do the same for you,” Finn says.

Rachel scowls, not even worried about the very real threat that crows feet will appear if she squints too much. “That’s - I don’t think that’s true,” she says. And she remembers the tiny moments they’ve had, however brief. “She’s changed Finn. I mean, you have to know that. You - you dated her,” and she whispers the last part like it’s some secret, but really she just doesn’t want to think about it. “Maybe if this was sophomore year, she wouldn’t. But—”

“I just don’t understand why you have so much faith in her, Rachel. I’m not saying that she hasn’t changed, but this shouldn’t be on you.”

Rachel is about to respond when she hears the notification bell on her phone.

**Quinn:** _ can we tlk?_

“I should be leaving,” Rachel says, her voice hard.

“Rachel don’t be like that.”

Rachel closes her eyes and takes in a breath to ground herself. She wonders if she’s being unreasonable, but then looks back down at her phone and thinks that Quinn Fabray is asking her if they can talk. She wants to talk with Rachel. That has to be progress. “Helping a friend isn’t a burden on me, Finn.”

* * *

This time when Rachel knocks, Quinn is the one who answers the door. She does a full once over of Rachel.

Rachel straightens out her skirt and smiles. “Quinn,” she says. “I like your head scarf.” She glances at the black bandanna tied around Quinn’s hair. “I’m quite partial to headbands myself.”

Quinn sighs and does a quick lift of her eyebrows. “Come in,” she says.

If only Rachel could swap her acute psychic senses for mind reading senses.

“Talked to your mom today,” Quinn says as she’s leading Rachel up stairs.

Rachel swallows. “She’s not my- she’s my mother,” she finishes. “ I spoke with her today, too.”

Quinn looks back at Rachel. Eyes focused and lips pursed, but it’s gone so fast Rachel thinks she imagined it.

“Oh,” she says, going into her room. Rachel can’t help but notice that there is no ashtray on her window seal, and the holes in her wall have been plastered and painted over. “Anyways,” Quinn continues, “She asked if I wanted to see Beth.”

Beth. The daughter that Rachel couldn’t be. “Oh,” Rachel says. She didn’t think they would be talking about this. “Do you want to?”

Quinn stares at her, and the room would be deafeningly silent if it weren't for the soft music playing from Quinn’s speaker. “Why don’t you two talk,” she asks.

Rachel looks down, worrying her lip between her teeth. She can’t expect Quinn to talk to her if she won’t talk to Quinn. “She isn’t my mom, Quinn. She’s… I’m very grateful for her putting me into this world, but I have my dads. They’re my family.”

“She’s beautiful,” Quinn says, picking at the black nail polish on her thumbnail. Rachel knows she isn’t talking about Shelby. “And, I saw this picture -” She clenches her jaw, and gives Rachel a glassy stare. “I don’t know if I did the right thing. Part of me wants to talk to Puck and see if we can steal her back, and the other part of me just says that it’s a really fucking bad idea.” She gives a breathy laugh that teeters into more silence.

“It is a bad idea,” Rachel says. She doesn’t want to lecture Quinn right now, so she leaves it at that.

Quinn’s eyebrows knit together as she goes back to picking at her nail polish. “What if she - Beth, what if-” she stops, and wipes her eyes with a small brush of her thumb. “What if I never make something so perfect again?”

Rachel leans forward and puts her hand over Quinn’s. Quinn doesn’t pull away, and she figures that’s an accomplishment. “You will,” she says, and she says it in the same way she assures people that she is a star. “You’re beautiful and smart and strong. I don’t know exactly what happened to you over the summer, but don’t let it define you - okay? Because you’re going to do great things one day.” She squeezes Quinn’s hand. “And for what it’s worth, I think you should spend time with Beth. But don’t kidnap her. That’s insane.”

Quinn looks at their hands, and then back up at Rachel. “Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if she kept you?”

“No,” Rachel says, easily. After all, Shelby was never meant to keep Rachel. “But I do wish we had a relationship sometimes. I don’t need her, but I wish I knew her.”

Quinn doesn’t respond to that, and for a few moments they just sit together in silence. The music plays. Most of it is stuff Rachel has never heard, some punk play list. It’s nice, though. The feeling of Quinn’s hand, and that soft expression on her face.

Quinn lets go finally, and Rachel finds herself missing the warmth. “By the way,” Quinn drawls while leaning over the bedside. Seconds later Rachel is hit in the head with a crumpled piece of paper. “I don’t have geography.”

Rachel looks sheepishly at the syllabus, then glances back up at Quinn and grins. “I needed to get inside.”

“Oh, also - I know you narced to my mom.”

Rachel rolls her eyes. “I did not narc. You weren’t exactly hiding your controlled substances.”

A small grin flash over Quinn’s mouth. “We compromised. She’s going to drink less. I’m going to go to church.” Quinn then laughs. “I just know they’ve been holding prayer sessions for me every Sunday since I stopped going.”

At that, Rachel bites her lip. “You stopped going?”

“Do I look like I still go to church?” she asks drolly.

“Well, while I don’t practice the Christian faith, I don’t think it will be bad for you to go back. It’s a community.”

“A judgmental one,” she says, looking away.

There is silence again, but this time Rachel chooses to focus on the music instead of filling it. “Blink-182?” Rachel asks with an impish grin. It’s so cliche.

“You know this?”

Rachel rolls her eyes. “Of course. It’s top 40’s. Or it was top 40’s. I don’t just sit around all day and listen to musical numbers.” That’s for Sundays only.

She bounces her head up and down to the slow guitar rift, and when the lyrics starts, Rachel does what Rachel does best. She sings. “_Hello there, the angel from my nightmare_.” Quinn just stares at her like she’s grown a second head, her eyes wide and mouth opened slightly. The reaction is ridiculous since every one knows that Rachel Berry is prone to spontaneous singing. As the verse is ending, Rachel leans closer to Quinn. “_We’ll wish this never ends.”_

There is a small instrumental break in which Rachel grabs both of Quinn’s hands. “Come on Quinn, I can’t do a duet by myself.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can,” she says, but she’s grinning. By the time the second verse starts Quinn is singing, “_Where are you? And I’m so sorry-”_

Rachel giggles and pulls them both up so that they’re standing. She watches Quinn sing, sees the way her eyes sparkle.

This is why she can’t give up on Quinn no matter what anyone else says. That look. That look that could do so many amazing things.

By the time the chorus comes they’re both belting: “_Don’t waste your time on me you’re already a voice inside my head. I miss you.”_

It’s fun. It’s so fun.

When it’s ending, both of them are throwing fits of giggles. Quinn’s cheeks are flushed, probably from all that smoking ruining her cardiovascular system, but for now Rachel will let it go. Quinn falls backward on the bed, and Rachel falls next to her.

“Admit it,” Rachel says.

“What?”

“You miss this.” She laughs. “You’ve missed Glee, and you missed singing, and I bet you even missed me a little.”

Quinn turns to look at Rachel. A strand of pink hair falls in her eyes despite the bandanna. Even with the new look Quinn can still somehow manage to look borderline angelic.

“Don’t push it, Berry,” she says with a roll of her eyes.

“Come back to glee club.”

Quinn chews on her lip for a few moments and then lets it go. “Okay,” Quinn says.

Rachel practically bounces up with joy. “I want to hug you. Can I hug you?”

“No,” Quinn says. She sits up. “I’ve done enough humiliating things tonight.”

“I’m the only one here. So is it really humiliating if no one is here to humiliate you?”

Quinn sighs. “Make it quick.”

Rachel wraps her arms around Quinn, and she doesn’t even really mind that much that Quinn isn’t hugging her back. She pulls away and claps her hands together. “We’re_ so_ singing that number tomorrow.”

Quinn looks annoyed, but she doesn’t protest.

And Rachel thinks about how she always thought Quinn might ruin her life. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Miss You by Blink182


	3. Even Cooler

When they perform, Rachel looks at Finn half of the time. The other half she looks at Quinn.

And when Quinn sings, “_I need somebody and always,_” her eyes are stuck on Rachel.

Being in love is kind of sickening, Quinn thinks. Right now she’s focusing on Rachel’s eyes, Rachel’s nose, Rachel’s mouth and the way her lip quivers when she sings a longer note. She’s thinking about Rachel in her room, and how her hands felt warm and soft. She’s thinking about Rachel’s legs in that blue dress she’s wearing. She’s thinking about church, and how long it had taken Quinn to not feel sickening guilt every time she thought about Rachel, and the things she could do to Rachel.

The trick was to not care about anything.

But here Rachel is making her care about things when she thought she was doing such a good job of pushing her emotions away.

She needs a cigarette.

When they finish the song, Rachel pulls her into a half hug. Every one else in the room joins, clapping and cheering her on. It’s nice, and Quinn has to admit that she did miss this.

“You rocked it girl,” Mercedes says, leaning in closer to her.

Puck puts his hand on her shoulder. “Yeah - and by the way, new look? Bad ass as hell. We could like…rob a bank together.”

Quinn laughs. “I think I’ll pass.” Under her breath she states, “Shelby wouldn’t like that.” He stares at her with wide eyes, grinning from ear to ear. Quinn smiles back.

“Welcome back, Quinn,” Mr. Shue says, and then, “Rachel.” He claps a few times as every one makes their way back to their seats. Rachel sits next to Finn. Quinn sits next to Brittany. She kisses him, Quinn looks away.

“That was really good,” Brittany says. “Being a lesbian really does make people cooler. Also Santana was totally wrong, you don't look like lazy town on meth.”

Quinn balks, then looks around to make sure no one heard that. Every one is too focused on Mr. Shue’s speech about raw passion in performance. “What are you talking about?” she hisses.

“I heard you smoked weed over summer, and weed makes you super, totally gay. Rachel will dump Finn when she sees back hair so you’re cool.” She smiles. She actually smiles, and if it were anyone else Quinn might tear them apart.

But it’s Brittany. “Don’t say things like that,” she mutters. “I’m not…I’m not anything.”

“Gotcha,” she says. “So like San.”

Quinn lets out a breath. “Not like anyone. It’s just not true.” She runs a hand through her hair, tousling it around a bit. “Where is Santana by the way?”

“Oh. She got kicked out for trying to sabotage the club for Coach Sue. It’s sad.” She shrugs.

The other day Sue had gotten Quinn to act in a smear campaign against the club. It was weird, but she was mad and wanted someone to suffer. It ended with a lecture from Mr. Shue telling her how she was selfish and needed to grow up; which in hindsight was true, but who was he to judge her? It had been an overall rough day when she took Shelby into account. And then she’d broken and finally responded to Rachel’s twenty-fucking-two (22!) text messages.

The night hadn’t been bad at all.

Rachel is now talking about West Side Story auditions, and Mercedes is arguing with her. Kurt jumps in. It’s oddly comforting.

“Guys guys, we have something else we need to discuss,” Mr. Shue says. “We need new members.”

Quinn gets an idea.

* * *

A week later and she’s stopped after school by Rachel. Finn lingers nearby, absently looking at them. His gaze meets Quinn’s and he offers a small smile.

“Are you staying to audition?” she asks. “I know it’s short notice, but you could easily get ensemble.”

Quinn shakes her head. “No, I have places to be.”

“Quinn,” she whines. “This is your last year to be in a school musical. Don’t you think the skanks can take a rain check?”

“Don’t think they can. Doesn’t rain much here,” Quinn says with a lazy shrug. In truth she’s not going to see the skanks, but she kind of wants to surprise Rachel. Quinn turns on her heel and walks away. “Break a leg,” she says while tossing a hand up over her shoulder.

She pauses on the way out when she sees Santana, hesitant before deciding to walk up to her. “Hey, Santana?”

“What is it, Juno?”

Quinn scoffs, and wonders why the hell she even thought about telling Santana of all people about her summer revelation. Santana would just try and find some way to exploit it, or make fun of her. “Nothing,” Quinn says. “It’s nothing.”

She has somewhere to be anyways.

* * *

She parks her car and stares up at the pink, neon sign that says: “Pump.”

The last time she’d been here was in the middle of summer with the skanks. Sheila had said she wanted to see something that would finally make her feel alive, and Quinn told her that feeling was overrated; but she’d still tagged along even though this type of stuff doesn’t do anything for her. Unfortunately.

Quinn finishes her cigarette, tosses it out and leaves the car. The music outside is loud, but Quinn can’t make out the song because of the boosted bass.

The bouncer stops her at the door. “ID?”

“Don’t have it.”

He crosses his arms over one another and continues to stare her down.

Quinn stares back, her lips pressed tight together and eyes coming to rest on him with a cold glare. Quinn makes it a point to cross her arms over one another, too.

His gaze wavers after a moment. “Ten dollar cover.”

She hands him a crinkled ten and moves past him without sparing another glance. Too easy.

The inside is still tacky. All around are pinks and browns and neon lights that hurt Quinn’s eyes. It’s still light outside so most of the people there are men, though there are a few woman hooting and hollering about. Quinn takes a seat in the back, watching the performer on stage with complete disinterest.

He humps the stage, lifting his ass up and down. A woman squeals and runs up to hand him a dollar. As thanks the man thrust his crotch in her face. Quinn is mildly disgusted, but tries not to show it. It’s not good to openly judge in these kinds of places.

He finishes up, and then it’s time for the next performer. “Coming to the stage,” a pause, “White Chocolate!”

_ Hot in Herre_ starts playing. Quinn stands up, fishing a dollar out of her pocket.

By the time she’s at the stage, Sam is wearing a pink g-string. She grimaces when he spots her, Sam doesn’t fair much better as his eyes go cartoonishly wide.

“Quinn?” he hisses. “I thought you weren’t going to come back here anymore.” So the show doesn’t stall, Sam rolls his hips in her face. “Sorry,” he murmurs.

Quinn hands him a dollar. “What time do you get off?”

“This is my last performance.”

“Move it, tramp!” a woman hollers at Quinn.

Quinn considers punching her, but she does not. “We need to talk after.”

“Okay,” he says. “20 minutes.”

She nods and goes to sit towards the back again.

True to his word, Sam is meeting her 20 minutes later. He’s wearing clothes now, a hoodie and loose pants. “Let’s get out of here. That woman tried to solicit me,” he says, looking over his shoulder at her. She waves, and Sam whips his head back to Quinn.

* * *

They end up at a cheap diner nearby. Sam orders food, and Quinn asks for a coffee.

“You’re not gonna eat?” Sam asks.

Quinn’s eyes shift to the menu. “Not really hungry,” she says.

“Right.” He looks at her for a few moments. “You look..um-” he pauses. “I mean, you’re different. We didn’t get to talk much last time.” The Mack was practically dry humping him, and Quinn didn’t really want to talk. Though it was strange seeing one of her exes wiggle his ass around in a tight thong.

“Why are you here?” he asks.

Quinn drums her fingers along the table and chews the inside of her lip. “I guess I’m here to recruit you,” she says. It feels a little ridiculous now that she’s here. “New Directions needs more members.”

“You’re still in glee?” he asks.

“I wasn’t, but…someone convinced me to come back.”

And now she’s going to get Sam to come back. That’s what Rachel did for her, and Sam is a good person. He’s better than whatever the hell he’s doing now. He deserves to have a good senior year. Quinn thinks the main reason she feels so uncomfortable about this all is because she hasn’t thought about anyone but herself in such a long time. She hasn’t wanted to.

“I miss it,” he says. “But my family is still struggling. I can’t just leave when they’re-”

“Do they know about this?” Quinn asks, arching one brow.

Sam looks down, his cheeks turning red. “No. I kinda lied about what I do - but this pays so much better than any of the other jobs around here.”

“Come back, Sam.” Quinn’s always liked Sam. He was the only boy who was always good to her, and Quinn thought that meant they were in love at a point.

“I’d need to talk to my parents, and I don’t really know where I’d stay.”

“With me,” Quinn says like it’s obvious. They, as well as a few other members of the church reached out last year, but Sam and his family had politely declined due to not wanting to be separated. “My mom’s always liked you; and she’ll being dying to tell the church. It might make up for the fact that she let me get kicked out.” The waitress comes back with food and a pitcher of coffee.

“How are you guys?” he asks.

Quinn shrugs. “Existing.”

“I’m really glad you’re in the glee club.” He takes a bite of his sandwich, chews and swallows it down with a gulp of water. “You look a little happier than the last time. And no offense but your other friends kind of scare me.”

“Please,” Quinn bristles, “I can be worse than all three of them combined.”

* * *

It’s a long drive back, but getting Sam to agree to come back to McKinley is a win, and Quinn doesn’t see too many of those now and days.

Rachel’s blown up her phone. Quinn just figures that it’s something she’ll have to get used to. She isn’t even surprised when Rachel texts her asking to hang out. She is surprised by how much she actually wants to. But she’s got a busy night, and tells Rachel as such.

“So,” Sam says. He drums his hands against his legs. “How is glee?”

Quinn shrugs. “I just got back.” She stops at a red light, and uses the moment to ready a cigarette. “Rachel sort of convinced me.”

Sam’s eyebrows shoot up. “Rachel?” he asks. “And you shouldn’t smoke, by the way. It’s gross. And it doesn’t make you cool. Goku doesn’t smoke and Goku is cool.”

Quinn can admit to herself that she missed his awkward ramblings a little, though she has no idea what the second half of his last sentence means. “Yes, Rachel. And I don’t care about not looking like Goku.” She rolls down the window and takes a slow inhale of smoke.

“What do you care about?” he asks.

Loaded question. Quinn tips her cigarette on the side of the window to get rid of the ash. “I don’t really know anymore.” A smile pulls at the edge of her lips. She can’t explain how easy it is not to care sometimes, she can’t explain how painfully lonely it is either. Over the summer she’d sometimes spend entire days not moving. She’d think about who she might be, and who she’s not, and Rachel. Then she just stopped giving a shit about any of it. She’d sleep, and she’d stare at the ceiling and mindlessly count the specks in the stucco of her ceiling. Eventually she met the skanks, and they provided a little more distraction, but not much.

“Why did you,” he looks her up and down, “change?”

She clenches her jaw. “I don’t know, Sam.”

“Quinn you don’t just wake up one day and decide to chop off your hair, get a nose piercing, and an ironic tattoo of Ryan Seacrest.”

“It’s henna.”

He crosses his arms. “Look, it’s fine if you don’t wanna tell me, but don’t lie and say you don’t know.” He looks at her, eyes going soft. “I still care about you, Quinn.”

Quinn flicks her cigarette out of the window and rolls it up quickly. “Well besides the fact that I think I’m in love with Rachel Berry.” She gives a dry laugh, clenching her fists around the steering wheel. “I really don’t know Sam.” It all feels sick coming out of her mouth, like something she’s throwing up rather than saying.

She’s never said it out loud. It’s just been a lingering echo in her head; something she could shut out if she really wanted. The blood rushes to her face and head at the sound of the words. The revelation that’s just left her mouth, the secret she’s kept all summer. And now, as if to push the words back in, Quinn covers her mouth and pulls over on the shoulder of the road. She starts to cry.

Sam stares at her, opting to be silent for a moment. “Really?” he asks, when Quinn’s heavy breaths have slowed.

Quinn looks at him, feeling embarrassment mingled with the heavy amount of shame she’s been carrying for months. Sam is still looking at her, blue eyes gentle and kind. “Yeah.” She swallows and wipes her eyes.

“You’re…so you’re…” he purses his lips. “Are you a lesbian?”

She physically recoils.

Sam leans forward a little and puts his hands on her arms. “Hey,” he says, smiling. “That’s great.”

She shakes her head, but then he nods. “No, no. It’s totally great.” He laughs. “Like…Ripley from Alien was a lesbian and she’s, like, freaking Ripley.” He brings his hand down to hers. “And you’re cool. Even cooler now, really.” He puts up a finger in waiting and then leaves the car, quickly coming to the drivers seat.

“Lemme drive the rest, alright?”

Quinn nods and gets out of the car. Sam holds out his arms, and Quinn lets him hug her. After a moment she moves her hand to the small of his back to reciprocate. They break apart and switch spots.

“Does anyone else know?” he asks as he starts the car.

“No. Not really.”

“So it’s Superman and Clark Kent?”

“Sure,” Quinn says looking out the window.

“Rachel Berry…”

Quinn nods. “Rachel Berry.”

“How are you gonna get your girl?”

Quinn sits up straight, her eyes widening. “I’m not. She’s with Finn, and even if she wasn’t she’s…she’s-” Quinn slams her head back and sighs.

Sam puffs out his cheeks and exhales a heavy breath. “That sucks.”

Quinn laughs, genuinely for the first time. “Yeah. It sucks.”

They slip into a comfortable silence as the sounds of the car and radio fill the spaces in between them. She taps her hands against her thighs as _You Send Me_ plays gently in the background. Her image is punk, sure, but the music is a little too chaotic sometimes. Quinn's always enjoyed older soul music. 

“How’s Mercedes?” Sam asks as the song trails off to its end.

“She’s dating someone.”

Sam keeps his gaze focused on the road as he says, “That sucks.”

Quinn offers a tiny smile. “Yeah, that sucks.”

* * *

Her mother has already cleaned up Frannie’s old bedroom, and the only rule she has for Sam staying is: “No funny business.” If only she knew how much she didn’t have to worry about that anymore.

“No funny business,” Sam says when she’s gone. They linger in the mostly empty room. Frannie never put up posters or anything like that, and she didn’t keep anything that she didn’t use regularly. She’s always been practical like that, which is why the room is barren and devoid of life save for the twin sized bed in the corner.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Quinn says, as she turns heel to make her way towards her own room. Sam follows her up.

“Woah,” he says. “This room is a lot darker than the last time I saw it.”

There is a knock on the front door, but Quinn waves her hand so he’ll ignore it. They've been getting door-to-door salesman like crazy lately.

Quinn smirks. “Well the last time you saw my room we were up to funny business.”

Another knock, and Quinn is rolling her eyes.

Sam sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I guess a lot has changed since then.” He stands next to where Quinn’s sitting on the bed. “Thank you,” he says. “For coming to get me, for letting me stay, for telling me… you know, all of it.”

“Well, I was inspired, I guess,” she says. Quinn jumps up at the sound of something being pelted against her window. “I swear,” she says under her breath before walking towards her window. Quinn looks down, and for a moment she thinks that she's hallucinating. 

“Is it a burglar?” Sam asks.

“Quinn, let me up!”

She’s crazy. She’s actually crazy. “I wish,” Quinn says.

Sam’s eyebrows raise to his hairline as a hint of a smile rests on his giant mouth.

“She’s insane.” Quinn stands up and hurries downstairs, and Sam follows clumsily behind.

When she answers the door, Rachel is standing there with a big smile on her face. It falls a little when she sees Sam, but lifts again. “Sam?” she asks, looking between the two of them. “Are you two? I - I can leave if you guys are-” She’s blushing.

“No - no, it’s nothing like that,” Quinn assures. “Really.” Quinn gives Sam a quick nod before closing the door behind her so that she and Rachel are alone. “I’ll explain tomorrow. What are you doing here?” she asks. “I told you I was busy.”

Rachel looks down and then back up to meet Quinn’s eyes. “You weren’t answering me, and I wanted to talk to you - but,” she frowns. “I’m sorry. I’m just having so many conflicting feelings, and when I have conflicting feelings I can’t sleep, and when I can’t sleep my vocal range goes down a fourth an octave.” She swallows. “Kurt is giving me the cold shoulder because I said I might run for president, and Finn. Well Finn sometimes just gives me the simplest answers, not the right ones.”

Quinn closes her eyes and opens them slowly. “Next time if I say I’m busy, believe me,” Quinn says.

“Right,” Rachel says.

“But what did you want to ask me about?”

“Mercedes was better than me,” Rachel says. “At the West Side Story auditions, she was better.” She clasps her hands together, then unclasps them. “And maybe other people don’t know that, but I know that. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Is Mercedes always better than you?”

Rachel rolls her eyes. “Of course not.”

“Are you asking me if you should drop out of the musical?”

“I don’t know,” Rachel admits.

Quinn smiles. Only a little, and only because she can’t help it. “People are going to be better than you Rachel. It might not even be for long, but it’s going to happen,” she says as plain as she can. “And you’re going to be better than people. And they might get picked over you, and vise versa.” Quinn looks at the ground. “Nothing is ever assured.”

“That’s nice and all, but what does that mean?” Rachel asks.

“It means, if you drop out every time you think someone is better than you, you’re never gonna move forward.”

“That’s not true. I very rarely think someone can sing better than me,” she says, completely serious.

“At least you’re humble,” Quinn says dryly.

Rachel grins, and Quinn thinks that means she’s said the right thing. “Thank you for that.” She then kicks her foot against the ground. “Do you think it’s selfish of me to run for president?”

Quinn laughs at that. “You want to boost your resume, and Kurt’s upset because you’ll be running against him?” she asks. It’s a guess, but judging by the way Rachel looks up at her, Quinn knows she’s right. “Yeah, it’s selfish. But I probably would have done the same thing at one point.”

“Right,” Rachel says. “Thank you. Again, I mean.”

“I would say anytime, but that would be a lie.” She arches her brow. “Boundaries.”

Rachel nods. “Boundaries…I’ll see you, and Sam I guess, tomorrow.”

“Yep.” Quinn turns to walk back into the house.

Sam is leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. “That’s weird,” he says when the door is shut.

“She’s a weird girl.”

“That’s why you like her."

Quinn covers her face and groans. She’s already regretting this being a decent person thing.


	4. Pound It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- forgot to mention, alternating PoV in this

Things have gone to proverbial hell, so to speak. That proverbial hell being the group known as the Trouble Tones.

Shelby Corcoran is trying to ruin her life. Or maybe not her life, but definitely her senior year.

Rachel storms up to Mercedes and Shane, though she’s smiling because if she looks too angry that might scare them away. She’s no Quinn Fabray, but she likes to think she has a slightly intimidating scowl. Though it’s never stopped a slushie from hitting her face. Details.

“Shane,” she says. Shane is a fellow member of the black student union. She holds out her fist in a friendly but colloquial gesture. “Pound it?”

Both of them look at her with wide eyes.

“That’s micro aggression, Berry.”

Rachel stares at him, blinking a few times but saying nothing. After a moment he pounds it.

“What do you want, Rachel?” Mercedes asks irritably.

“I want you guys to come back to glee club,” she says.

Rachel figures that of course once they get Quinn and Sam back, three members would leave (Thank you Finn for calling Brittany stupid). All they’ve got to make up for it is an Irish boy who has an admittedly nice voice despite being a bit awkward in the social department; not that Rachel can really fault him. Culture shock.

“No,” Mercedes says. “Look, I’m tired of being overlooked. We all know you’re a star, Rachel. But I’m a star too.”

“A bright star,” Shane adds.

“Thank you, baby.”

Rachel feels a mild pang of guilt. “You’re right,” she commends. “You’re amazing, Mercedes. I mean, it takes a lot for me to be threatened, but...” She sighs. “That’s why you should come back. With the two of us, we’d dominate sectionals."

Mercedes looks like she’s about to think about it, but then falters when Sam and Quinn walk by.

Sam stops, and Quinn stills behind him. “Hey Mercedes,” Sam says.

Shane puts an arm around her shoulders.

“Hey, Sam. Hey, Quinn.”

“Hey Mercedes,” Quinn says. She licks her lips. “Talk?” she asks, staring at Rachel now.

Rachel doesn’t look away from Mercedes for a moment. “We should be going,” Mercedes says, closing her locker and walking away with Shane in tow.

“Me too,” Sam says. He does an awkward shuffle of his feet before walking away.

“What’s up?” Rachel asks, now turning her full attention to one Quinn Fabray. She tries not to smile too wide because Quinn is asking to talk in the middle of a busy hallway as friends, and this is something that simply would not have happened years ago. Quinn toys with the silver cross that dangles from her left ear. Her look today is very George Michael circa the _Faith_ era. 

“I’m babysitting Beth with Puck tonight,” she says and then stops. She turns around completely, slams Jacob into a locker, takes his phone, and stomps on it. When she turns back around, she continues walking like it didn’t happen. “Fix your skirt a little. Freak was trying to take upshots.”

Rachel feels her face turn red and adjust the back of her skirt. If there is one thing Rachel won’t miss it’s that perverted little weasel. “Quinn, that’s amazing,” she says.

Quinn tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah,” she says. “I just wanted to tell you because we talked about it.” She looks shy almost, and fidgets a bit before putting her hands into the pockets of her jacket. Who knew Quinn Fabray could be so cute. Rachel has the urge to hug her, or grab her hand, or something. She suppresses it. “You’ve been...a good friend,” Quinn says, and then straightens out her face. “Even though my mom won’t leave me alone anymore.”

Rachel smiles at that. “Anytime, Quinn.”

* * *

In glee they’re performing love ballad duets as per the assignment. Rachel and Finn go first (naturally) with a harrowing rendition of _Calling You_, and Rachel manages to muster up watery eyes for the added effect of the performance. Quinn stares at them vacantly, and Rachel knows this because when she isn’t looking at Finn, she’s looking at Quinn. Mostly in attempt to gauge her reaction.

Sam mutters something to Quinn, and Quinn smiles a little before looking back up.

“Great job,” Sam says, with this goofy, wide grin on his face. Quinn nods in agreement, but doesn't say anything. 

To Rachel’s surprise, they perform next. She gives Quinn an encouraging thumbs up as they settle down in front of the rest of the group.

They sing, _I can’t make you love me_. And really, it’s quite beautiful. Finn holds her hand, running his thumb along the side of her palm. And Quinn’s gaze meets hers as she sings for a moment, but it’s gone as fast as it came and she’s staring at Sam again.

They pull it off so well. Quinn doesn’t have the greatest range, but she has the emotion. She makes it a performance. There is something heartbreakingly beautiful about that sad gaze she can pull off without even really trying. The brief pleading in her eyes, and how her mostly neutral face has these great pulls of emotion. Rachel is clapping louder than every one else in the room despite having tiny hands.

* * *

It’s after school when Rachel finds Mercedes (again). She shoots a quick text to Finn telling him that she’ll meet up with him soon.

It just so happens the Trouble Tones are performing. Mercedes, Santana, Brittany and Sugar. They're good, though Rachel is 80% sure that Sugar isn't actually singing along with them. Rachel watches wide-eyed, her gaze flickering between the stage and the back of Shelby’s head. _They’re really good._

“Spying?” Shelby says when the performance is done.

Rachel’s mouth falls open the tiniest bit. She’s not often speechless. “No - I,” she closes her mouth so that she looks less like a fish out of water. “You guys were amazing.”

“Damn right, hobbit,” Santana says. She holds out her finger and points at Rachel, "And we _are_ amazing."

Mercedes folds her arms over one another and stares down at Rachel from the stage. “What are you doing here, Rachel?”

She gets it. She understands Mercedes needing to shine because years ago she’d gotten a teacher fired for the exact same thing. She clenches and unclenches her fist before smiling. “We’ve got some real competition,” she says, holding Mercedes gaze. 

“Not really we’re totally, like, better,” Brittany says.

“You could always join, you know?” Shelby says. She’s looking at Rachel, and because of the sincerity, Rachel thinks about it for all of half a second. She knows she could never leave the New Directions, but she’s also stuck with the knowledge that Shelby is her mother and a tiny part of her wants that approval.

“No,” she says, not unkind. Rachel straightens up. “It’ll be good to get some legitimate competition for sectionals. It makes victory better,” she says. She believes in the New Directions, and what they’ll do this year. Although her vision of glee includes Mercedes, Brittany and even Santana despite her being a complete reprobate half the time. They’ll come around, she thinks. When they beat them, they'll come around.

Mercedes is still smiling. “There’s more spots on the Trouble Tones for you when guys lose.”

“We’ll see.”

Santana rolls her eyes. “You’re making me nauseous. Come on.”

“See you around,” Rachel says.

Mercedes nods, and though she's smiling she doesn't look completely happy. It isn't meeting her eyes. Rachel wonders if she's failed as captain of New Directions, and then she throws away the thought. They might not do sectionals together, but there is still regionals and nationals. She knows they'll be together again by then. 

* * *

“They’re so good,” Rachel says, now admittedly worried. Finn’s hand is trailing up her thigh and he’s sloppily doing something against her neck. She’s not really in the mood.

“It’s good?” he asks, moving his hand higher.

She grabs his hand and pushes it away slightly with a smile to soften the rejection. She has rules. Upper thigh when she’s not wearing pants goes against them. Sometimes he’s allowed under the shirt, over the bra - but not always. One time she’d let him touch her breast under the bra and it resulted in a very messy and briefly awkward exchange where Finn had to change his pants.

“No, the Trouble Tones,” she says.

Finn lifts his head, his face red and eyes glazed over. He looks at her, clearly addled. “Were we having a conversation?”

Rachel laughs under her breath. “No. I was just thinking…I watched them today. A little off on the background harmonies, but in a few weeks they’ll be amazing. Especially with Shelby.” She worries her lip.

He flops over on his back with a heavy sigh. “You think they can beat us?”

Rachel turns on her side to stare at him. “No,” she says. “I mean-” she thinks about what Quinn told her. The best doesn’t always win. She looks down. “I don’t think so.”

“Do you think we’ll ever have, like, sex?” he then asks. Rachel is slightly taken aback until she looks at his pants. _Oh._ “Before you’re 25, I mean. I don’t wanna pressure you, I just want to know what we’re waiting for.”

Rachel doesn’t know. She loves Finn, she’s attracted to him, and it isn’t like she never wants to. She even carries condoms with her just in case, but...she’s scared. She’s never shown her body to anyone, and there is pregnancy. Rachel thinks about Quinn again. Quinn isn’t a virgin.

Neither is Finn.

Rachel feels isolated when she thinks about that. “We will,” she says, quietly. She rests her hand over her heart. “I’m just focused on other things right now.”

Finn grunts.

“You should be too, Finn,” she says. “Senior year is just starting but it’s going to go by fast.”

“I told you that I only need you,” he says, fidgeting. “I don’t really know what I want to do yet.”

For the first time, Rachel gets nervous about that. She wants him to care about his future as much as she cares about hers. “Well do you have any idea of what you want? In New York there are lots of opportunities for acting and musi-”

“I don’t know,” he says, a slight edge growing into his voice.

“I’m going to support you no matter what you do, Finn. You know that right?”

“Yeah. Can we just not talk about this right now.” His jaw tightens, and Rachel nods because she isn’t in the mood to have this fight. 

“You know, Quinn’s birthday is coming up in a couple weeks. I think we should do something. I was even thinking about talking to Shelby and having a little party with Beth.”

Finn turns his head and stares at her, eyes hard for a moment.

“What?” she asks, grabbing his hand. “Bad idea?”

“It’s nothing. I just feel like…lately all you talk about is NYADA and…and Quinn.” His eyes flit around for a second. “You’ve got like a crush or something.”

Rachel blinks a few times, lips parting. “What should I be talking about, Finn?”

“I don’t know? …Us?”

And then Rachel rolls her eyes and sits up. “When I try to talk about us, _Finn_, you say you don’t want to talk about it. So I don’t really understand what you want to talk about other than sex.”

“Don’t do that. Not when you’ve been so laser focused on things that aren’t-”

“That aren’t you?” she asks. She hates fighting with Finn because he gives her this look like she’s not even there at times. Like he’s so disappointed that he blurs her out.

“I just never know what the hell you want out of me!”

"Nothing,” she says, standing up and walking towards the door. “I’ve never wanted anything out of you.” Queue dramatic walk out and door slam.

Five minutes later she’s with Kurt (and Blaine), crying. “Is it true that I only talk about NYADA and Quinn?”

Kurt rubs her back. “No, no. You talk about Finn and Barbra Streisand too.”

She sniffles, being careful not to stain his shirt because it’s satin.

“He’s probably just nervous,” Blaine says. “You’ve had your future planned since forever, but he’s just now forming it.”

Rachel looks down. “So you're saying I'm pushing him?"

He puts his hand on her shoulder. “It’s nothing to worry about,” Blaine continues, looking at Kurt. “Because you guys love each other.”

Rachel nods, and then goes to check her phone when it dings. She opens it and smiles. It’s a picture with a baby - presumably Beth - pulling at Quinn’s pink hair. Quinn looks like she's mid eye roll, but there is a smile on her face. Rachel hones in on the little details. Beth has Quinn’s smile, and her eyes. She’s got Puck’s mischief.

**Quinn:** _She digs the hair_

**Rachel:** _ xD_

**Rachel:** _ That is funny!_

**Rachel**:_ I hope you are having a good time. It looks like you are._

“What are you giggling at?” Kurt asks, leaning over to see her phone.

“Nothing. Quinn just sent me something.”

“I’ve got some competition for the role of best friend?” Kurt asks.

Rachel giggles and pushes against his shoulder. “Never.” She stares at the picture. “But we are getting closer... I think.” She lifts her shoulders up and wipes the lingering wetness off of her face. “I want to do something for her birthday. With the glee club, and maybe the Trouble Tones. Her mom. She’s turning 18.”

“I think I was right about having competition,” Kurt says to Blaine over Rachel’s shoulder.

“Will you guys help me plan it?”

“We barely know her,” Kurt says

“You know her enough. It’s gonna be our last year all together.”

Kurt rubs her shoulder. “We don’t all have to like each other, Rachel.” He laughs. “I mean, most of us couldn’t stand you when glee club started. I think there’s already been impressive improvement."

Rachel thinks about all of her fights with other members. Santana almost cut her twice, and Quinn might have been worse. Kurt is right, but at the same time - Rachel has always been a perfectionist. “We’re a family,” she says. "Even in lieu of Santana’s frequent schadenfreude, and Puck’s criminal activities, and _our_ diva walkouts.” Kurt smiles warmly at that. “When we go to NYADA there's going to be way more competition. I don’t think we’re ever going to have anything like this anymore. At least not for a long time. I want to remember it.”

“We’re always gonna be here,” Blaine says.

Just as Kurt is saying, “I know what you mean.”

“And if I’m going to have anything close to the success Barbra had, I’m going to have to go through a lot more competition.”

Kurt snickers, and then Blaine is laughing as well. Rachel wonders if she accidentally said some weird sexual innuendo, and mulls over her last few sentences.

“She talked about Finn,” Blaine says, “Quinn.”

“NYADA, Barbra,” Kurt finishes. “I think we should win a prize when that happens.”

Rachel stands up. “I’m going to go home now.”

* * *

**Quinn:** _Yeah it was fun_

Rachel looks at the responding text, and frowns until she gets another one. It’s a picture. Beth is sleeping on the couch with her butt up in the air and face smushed into the couch. Her head is tilting towards the camera, so Rachel can see her closed eyes and opened mouth. Rachel grins, and instead of texting back she calls.

“Hey?” Quinn answers, her voice raised slightly in question.

Rachel feels stupid for calling for a second. “How was it?” she asks. She really just wants to talk to Quinn. She likes the way Quinn talks to her when it’s not bordering on insulting. She’s level-headed. Kurt is so much like her sometimes they talk in circles, and Finn just isn’t much of a conversationalist, typically opting to just nod as Rachel prattles on. Plus she’s still mad at him.

Quinn laughs. “It was really good. She’s learned to walk recently, so she likes to run around a lot. She never has any idea where she’s going though.” Another laugh. Quinn’s laugh is very pretty. “She followed Puck and I around everywhere until she got her way up on the couch and fell asleep. “She’s silly.” Small pause. “She…she likes gold stars. Shelby has this toy that she chews on, it’s her favorite.”

Rachel can’t help the slight pang in her chest despite it being unjustified. “I’m glad it went well.”

“She’s beautiful,” Quinn says, almost dreamily.

“Like her mama.”

“Hopefully she turns out better.”

Rachel frowns, and then her frown deepens when her phone starts vibrating and she sees that Finn is trying to call. She groans, knowing that she should probably take it.

“What?” Quinn asks.

“Finn,” Rachel states. “We got in a fight, and he’s calling me.”

“Oh. Do you need to go?”

“No.” She pouts even though no one can see her. “He complains about what I talk about. He complains when I try to talk about us and what we’re going to do next. I’m starting to think he just doesn’t want me to talk.” Rachel fiddles with the hem of her night shirt. Sometimes she doesn’t know what Finn wants out of her. She supposes it’s mutual considering Finn’s reaction earlier.

“Don’t you know what you’re going to do next?” Quinn asks.

“Yes, but…Finn doesn’t. I love him, and I just want him to find something. What do you think?”

“You don’t want my advice.”

“Yes I do.”

There is a sigh on the other line. “I think you should make the best out of your relationship while you can. It’s high school. High school never lasts.”

Rachel says nothing for a moment. She wants to cry all of a sudden. It’s cruel, she thinks. Quinn is being cruel. “You’re right,” Rachel says. “I didn’t want your advice.”

“Then don’t ask for what you don’t want.” The line goes dead.

Rachel calls Finn, and she tells him that she’s sorry. For a second she’s so afraid that he’ll leave her because she’ll be alone again. But he doesn’t. He says he’s sorry too, and that they’ll talk about things more later.

Even after making up with Finn, Rachel can’t sleep.


	5. Genghis Kahn was an Asshole

Over a week since Rachel last texted her. Over a week since Rachel has went out of her way to make any conversation. It’s good, really. Quinn needs the space. 

“Uh, Quinn?” Sam asks, looking at her from across the dinner table. “Your toast.”

Quinn looks up at him, then looks down at the toast she’s been buttering for the greater half of the last ten minutes. The toast in question is mostly just crumbs from her scraping the knife against it so hard. “Shit.”

“Language,” her mother says, getting ready for work.

They do this now. Her mother leaves a little later for work, and she makes them breakfast and they sit together like some kind of family. It’s not as terrible as the family meals she used to have with dad and Frannie though, so she doesn’t complain. Though she does wonder what Rachel said to her mom to get the domino affect of not giving a shit about what Quinn does, to watching over her like a hawk. She can’t even smoke in her room anymore because her mother scent checks once a week. Quinn’s happy she’s not forcing her to dye her hair back and take out her nose ring, though she has made comments that it’s not her favorite look in the world.

“You still upset about Rachel?” Sam asks when they’re in the car.

“I was never upset.”

“You totally are,” he says. “She’ll come around.”

She flexes her hands around the steering wheel. “Drop it, Sam.”

Sam leans back in his seat. “I don’t know how you’re around her so much. When I’m around Mercedes, even when we’re not alone, I just want to…” he drifts off. “She smiles at someone else, and it just feels like I got kamehameha-ed in the heart.” Quinn hates that she knows the feeling, and she also hates that she’s able to understand Sam’s nerd speak. Nights of watching Japanese cartoons when she didn’t want to be alone have changed her. Quinn doesn’t think it’s for the better. “I want to kiss her. I mean she’s so beautiful, and smart. She’s somebody. And I'm Sam...Sam I am.”

Quinn swallows.

“I want to touch her.”

“Sam,” Quinn says because she’s thinking about Rachel, and flashes of tan skin, full lips, brown-doey eyes. She always looks so innocent in a way that Quinn never managed to achieve in high school. Maybe as Lucy, but never Quinn.

“Not like in a perverted way!” he amends, but then smiles a little to himself. “But just like, holding her hand.” He grins sheepishly. “Being around that as much as you’ve been must be like…Stanley Kubrick losing it for me.”

Quinn manages a laugh. She doesn’t want to talk about how sometimes being around Rachel is amazing. Times when they’re in this space with just them, and they’re just two people. Rachel dreams so high, and Quinn watches the ground. Heaven and earth, it’s just that simple. Other times being with Rachel is hell. Storms and earth quakes. Quinn wanting to make it all stop, and Rachel wanting to bring down the world. “It’s not that bad,” she says, easily enough. “Besides all the times I want to tear my hair out.”

“I’m gonna win her back,” he says, determined.

“She dating someone, Sam. She loves him.” Quinn doesn’t know if that’s true, and she isn’t quite sure why she says it.

“She loved me once,” he says.

Quinn looks at him as she parks. “Don’t…don’t hurt her,” she says. She may not talk to Mercedes as much as she did a year ago, but she’s still a friend. “Don’t just barrel in. Think before you act.”

He smirks. “I won’t hurt her,” he says, lifting his eyebrows, “I can’t.”

She rolls her eyes as they get out of the car. They both know that’s not true.

* * *

Nothing happens all day until after glee club. Rachel parts with Finn and chases after Quinn when they’re halfway down the hall. “Quinn,” she says, taking a small breath.

Quinn narrows her gaze. “Berry,” she says, questioningly. 

“I wanted to know if we could,” she looks down, “hang out tomorrow?”

Tomorrow is Quinn’s birthday. “No,” she says. “I don’t want to celebrate.”

“Quinn I just want to talk. I can’t tonight, but…I just thought it would be nice.”

She gives Quinn this pathetic, sad little look and Quinn rolls her eyes just so she won’t physically melt into the linoleum flooring of the school. “Fine.”

Rachel beams and places her hand on Quinn’s shoulder, letting it linger before she darts off in the opposite direction.

Freak.

* * *

The next time something happens, Quinn is in class. She isn’t paying attention when someone sits in the desk next to her.

“Yo,” she hears. She turns and sees Puck, which is fine except for the fact that this is AP European history, and Puck is in remedial US history. Mr. Handson doesn’t notice because he’s probably older than half the stuff he teaches about.

“What are you doing here?”

“Learning. I totally love history,” he says, looking up at the board and reading the large writing that reads: Genghis Kahn. “Guy was a legend. Had like a million kids.”

“Killed like a million kids too,” Quinn says.

“That’s crazy,” Puck says, his eyes widening slightly. “Why?”

Quinn exhales a short breath because now she’s missing the lecture, and she’s probably going to have to get Mike’s notes. “What do you want, Puck?”

He smirks and looks Quinn up and down. Quinn can’t believe she ever had sex with him even if she is starting to look at it as less of a mistake since she’s seen how Beth turned out. “What are you doing tonight?” he asks.

She looks back at the board. “I’m not going out with you,” she says, decidedly done with whatever pointless discussion they’re having.

“Look, Quinn - I know you’ve got you’re thing with Sam. But, you’re my baby mama, and I’m you’re baby daddy. Also we both totally look bad ass.”

Quinn misses the days where she could skip class without her Mother finding out. “I don’t have a thing with Sam,” she says, and now she looks at Puck again, gives him that steely glare she’s known for. “I just have no interest in you.” Out of all the Jewish members of glee club that could come on to her. And by all she means out of the two, one of which she has barely stopped thinking about for the good part of 3 years.

“We had a spark when we were baby sitting Beth. I know you felt it a little.” Quinn knows what he’s referring to, and she also knows that he misread. Quinn was smiling at Rachel’s stupid texts and when she looked up, Puck looked up, and then they were awkwardly smiling at each other.

“I’ve got church tonight,” she says.

“What about Friday?”

Quinn narrows her eyes. “Why didn’t you ask me about Thursday?”

Puck freezes. “I’ve got plans,” he says with a noncommittal shrug, and then he’s standing up. As he leaves he tells the class, “By the way? Genghis Kahn was an asshole.” He smiles and winks at Quinn before exiting.

Rachel is throwing her a party. Quinn closes her eyes tight and rests her palm against her forehead as she groans. She’s not exactly keen on celebrating her birthday this year. Really the only plus side is that she won’t have to flirt with the man at the gas station any more to get cigarettes, and ever since she’s been granted contact with Beth, she’s been planning on quitting anyways. Right now she only smokes a pack a day. Improvement.

With the knowledge of an incoming surprise birthday, Quinn might need to amend that quota for a day.

* * *

**Rachel:** _Can we hang out?_

Quinn looks at her phone in the middle of the sermon. Her mother looks at her, but doesn't say anything. Sam is next to her and not paying attention at all, instead choosing to moon over Mercedes who is sitting on the pew three rows to the left. Mercedes looks back at him sometimes, and Quinn wonders if they’ll ever get back together again.

It isn’t her business, and she makes a point not to talk about it; but Mercedes clearly likes him. Thing is, she likes Shane too. Quinn’s been in this story before. As the outsider, Quinn just wants Sam and Mercedes to be careful.

Quinn stares down at her phone and wonders if she should take her own unsaid advice.

**Quinn:** _I’m at church_

**Quinn:** _Give me an hour_

That's how Rachel ends up sitting on her bed later that night, legs crossed and hands on her knees as she stares at Quinn like she’s been asked to attend a meeting.

“What?” Quinn asks. She opens her window and gets out her cigarettes. One cigarette in her room will be fine, she decides. Her mother’s nose can’t be that good.

Rachel is giving her a hard stare, her lips forming a thing line. “That’s a really bad habit,” she says. “I mean who knows how many pack lives you’ve already accumulated, the risk of lung cancer is staggering; not to mention what it does to your vocals, and breathing and-”

“Did you come to lecture me?” Quinn asks, lighting her cigarette.

Rachel glares and reaches over and grabs the pack of cigarettes. She shuffles it around a pit, trying to get one out. After a moment of hitting the pack she manages to retrieve one cigarette. She puts it in her mouth. “If you don’t stop, I’ll smoke this,” she threatens, and then grabs the pack again. “I’ll smoke them all.”

Quinn laughs. “Is that going to teach me something?” she asks, knowing that there is no way Rachel would actually smoke. She’s got too much pride in her voice, as she should. It looks silly hanging out of her mouth, but also cute. She’s so cute sometimes. Quinn is going to throw herself out of the window in a moment.

Rachel stands up and positions herself next to Quinn. She grabs the lighter, and then rolls her thumb along the spark wheel a few times. “How do I light this thing,” she says after her fifth attempt.

Quinn watches her for a few more seconds before taking the cigarette out of her mouth. They’re close, less than a foot apart; and Quinn can’t help the way she stares at Rachel’s mouth, lips parted slightly from the cigarette. “You don’t,” she says, throwing it out the window. She pulls out her own and throws that out as well so Rachel will stop looking a her like she’s just clubbed a baby seal.

Rachel smiles. “I think your lighter is broken.”

“No. It just has a child lock.” Quinn shuts the window and moves to sit down on her bed. “Now why are you here? Is this about last week? Because I’m not apologizing. You asked me what I thought.”

“You didn’t have to be so cruel about it,” Rachel says. She isn’t looking at Quinn, but instead paying very close attention to her hands as she clasps and unclasps them.

“I wasn’t.” Cruelty would have been telling Rachel that her relationship is weirdly codependent, it would have been telling her that Finn doesn’t know what the hell he’s going to do next, and even if he did - he probably wouldn’t know how to do it. She thinks about the pregnancy. Yeah, maybe she hadn’t treated him the best, but he also didn’t even know how to get a job to support his child (that was actually Puck’s; but Finn didn't know that). Cruelty would be saying that Rachel’s fixation, the way she babies him, is only going to make things harder in the end.

It isn’t that Quinn doesn’t think that they love each other. It’s that there are a lot of ways they could end up absolutely destroying one another. Rachel chases after Finn because she's afraid of being alone. Finn chases after Rachel because she makes him feel good and he thinks he’s worthless without her, he thinks he’s going to be stuck. Finn's going to get in the way of Rachel's dreams, or Finn will never find out what he actually wants to do - either way it's going to end in resentment. 

It’s high school, and Quinn knows well enough that first loves never last. It’s a nice dream, but that’s all it is.

Quinn thinks that the worst part of this whole thing is that Rachel might not have been so relentless to get Finn had Quinn not been a bitch to her in their first years of high school. A nice, handsome, quarterback thinks a girl with self esteem issues is cute; that very girl with self esteem issues hates his bitchy girlfriend. It’s all painfully ironic.

Quinn regrets throwing out her cigarette, and Rachel’s still got a tight hold on the box.

In hindsight, Quinn can see why Rachel thought her intention was to be cruel. “I didn’t mean to come off that way,” she says. “Maybe it’s just something we shouldn’t talk about.”

Rachel looks at her again, eyes shining, looking for something inside of Quinn. “I want to talk about things with you,” Rachel says. Quinn wonders if Rachel knows what she’s doing, if she knows the affect she has on her sometimes. “But I’m actually here about something else,” she finishes.

“Something else? I can do that,” Quinn says.

Rachel swallows as her cheeks tinge a pretty pink. “I want…” she stops. “Let me start from the beginning.”

Quinn lifts an eyebrow and gestures for her to continue.

“Artie doesn’t think I’m sexy enough for West Side Story.”

Quinn isn’t expecting that. Her eyes widen, mouth forming a small _oh_ as she tries to figure out how to respond to that. She wants to tell Rachel that she is sexy. Maybe not in a traditional way, but she’s definitely sexy. Quinn feels her face starting to heat up. “Artie’s an idiot,” Quinn says with a small cough.

Brown eyes are fixed on Quinn’s for a moment, and Quinn wonders if that was too on the nose. “You think I’m sexy?” Rachel asks. 

“What, ugh, no. I just mean-” Quinn chews on her lip. “What does Artie know about sexy? He’s just a stupid boy.”

Rachel is now hovering about her, only a few feet away. Quinn wishes she was standing too because with Rachel looking down on her she feels vulnerable. Like Rachel will see all the tiny little things she does and put pieces together.

“How do you do it?” Rachel asks.

“Do what?”

She looks down. "Quinn, it isn't exactly a secret that you're...I mean, every boy in school has probably wanted you at some point." Their eyes meet again. "You're sexy," she says plainly. 

Quinn fears she’ll die from a heat stroke from the way her cheeks are flaring up. She clenches her jaw and forces out a small laugh. “What?”

“I mean objectively, speaking.” Quinn’s eyebrows knit together and she wonders if Rachel even knows what she’s saying. Her own brain is scrambling. For a moment Quinn thinks this is some weird prank, but then she remembers that she doesn’t get pranked. She’s Quinn Fabray.

“You want me to help you become…sexy?”

Rachel nods. “Exactly.”

“This is ridiculous.”

Rachel walks forward and grabs Quinn’s hand. She's gotten _way _too comfortable around Quinn.

Quinn thinks about Sam asking her how she does this. There are moments like this, and Quinn feels so awake, but it also feels like a dream. A kind of happiness she can’t explain, one that’s slightly bitter; and that makes Quinn feel it even more.

“Just help me with a few of these scenes.” She juts out her lower lip. “Please.”

“Can’t you do this with Finn?”

Rachel laughs at that. “I love Finn, but he doesn’t exactly exude the right…energy.”

He’s not sexy, she almost says, but bites down on her tongue. “Okay. Santana? Brittany?”

Rachel looks at her like she’s stupid, and Quinn knows that neither of them would be of any help but she just can’t wrap her head around Rachel going to her for this.

“When you want someone,” Rachel starts, her hands are still grasping at Quinn’s, her face is only six inches away. Rachel says, “How do you look at them?”

Quinn swallows, squirming slightly. “I don’t know,” she says even though she knows the look Rachel is talking about. How she looked at Finn when she wanted him to do something, or Puck, or even Sam.

“Okay, so you’re Tony,” Rachel says. She drags them backward into a wall, eyebrows coming together as she thinks. She lets go of Quinn’s left hand. “Put it on the wall.”

Quinn takes a small step forward and places her hand on the wall next to Rachel’s head. Calmly, Quinn tries to recall that specific look. It never meant anything. She actually learned it by watching _Sex in the City_ while at sleepovers with Santana. But it’s hard because she can feel Rachel’s breath, and her want right now is very real. Quinn flutters her eyelashes, parting her lips slightly. She looks at Rachel’s eyes, then her lips. Rachel’s tongue swipes over her bottom lip, and then Quinn forces herself to look back up. She smiles, a little bit sweet and a little bit mean - all the boys like that. It’s never too much, just a small, subtle smirk. _Thank you Samantha Jones._

Rachel’s exhale of breath is when Quinn pulls away. Her heart is thrumming so fast she can’t even count the beats.

“Wow,” Rachel says after a beat. “You would have been so good in Run Joey Run.” She claps her hands together. “Okay my turn.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna do you now and you can tell me how it is.”

Quinn is having a fever dream. Or she’s high. She hasn’t smoked weed in a while, but she did go to the student garage more than a few times today and maybe there was lingering contact high. Rachel is pushing her against a wall like it’s the most normal thing in the world. It’s almost silly, the way Rachel is looking up at her like she’s got something to prove.

“Relax your face,” Quinn says, trying to force her voice to stay at a normal octave. Rachel’s eyes roam her face, lingering on every detail. She almost feels like she’s being scrutinized. “Focus on the lips and the eyes. Like you’re going to kiss someone, and you know they want you to kiss them.”

“He cups her face here,” Rachel says, lifting her palm to touch Quinn’s cheek.

It’s too much. Rachel smiles a little. A real smile, and then she giggles before biting her lip to stifle it. “Okay serious now,” she says to herself.

“You know that someone wants you, and you want them - but they’ve gotta work for it.” Quinn can’t help how deep her voice is. Rachel evens out her face and parts her lips the tiniest bit. She doesn’t smile, and her eyes are more serious than flirty. But Quinn is more flustered than she’s been in her entire life probably so she says, “Yeah. That’s good.” It’s mostly so Rachel will step back.

Quinn barely remembers how to breathe at this point.

“Should I have sex with Finn?” Rachel asks

It’s like she’s been slushied, and whatever heat she was feeling has now dissipated. She walks away and sits down so her legs won't fall out from under her. Quinn doesn’t answer right away, partly because she doesn’t know what to say. She has to act like she’s just a friend. “I told you not to ask for things you didn’t want,” Quinn says. Rachel, at the end of the day, does what Rachel wants. Quinn’s never going to be able to change her mind.

Rachel frowns. “What was it like for you?” she asks, quiet like they’re exchanging secrets.

Quinn’s stomach turns. “It hurt. I didn’t like it. And in the end I got pregnant - so, not big on recommending it.” She looks up, staring at Rachel until their eyes are meeting. “I don’t think it’s something you should do if you’re asking other people for their thoughts on it,” she says. “Do it because you want to do it, not because you feel like it’s time. Not because you feel like you’re fat, either,” Quinn adds, now looking down.

Rachel sighs and nods, but Quinn can tell she’s still upset.

“Don’t listen to Artie, really,” Quinn says. “You’re gonna look amazing up there regardless of what you do.” The tips of her ears are burning, and she’s focusing on her hands, picking a little at the black nail polish that’s fading away.

“You think…do you think I’m pretty?” Rachel asks.

If Quinn could just, like, fall into the floor right now that would be great. She feels sick, something twisting deep in her stomach. “I never meant any of it,” she blurts out after a moment. Rachel’s eyes widen a little. “I said a lot of awful shit to you, and I want you to know that I didn’t mean it. I was…going through my own issues, and I took that out on you. It wasn’t fair, and it doesn’t help that I’m saying this now, but, I’m sorry.” She says it so fast that once she’s done talking she has to suck in a breath. “I can’t give you a reason for it, nothing that justifies it at least. You’ll probably hate me, but all I can say is that I thought making you feel like that would make me feel better. So I’m sorry,” she says again. “But don’t let the insecurities I helped build influence you. Easier said than done, but...” Quinn laughs uncomfortably. “You’re pretty.” 

Quinn’s eyes are watering, just the tiniest bit and she’s not sure if she’s sad or if she’s embarrassed. Probably both. The way she treated Rachel is slowly becoming her biggest regret.

Rachel walks up to her, bends down, and wraps her arms around Quinn’s body so that they’re hugging. It only makes Quinn more uncomfortable because she’s hyper aware of the way their bodies are pressing against each other.

She doesn’t pull away.

“I forgave you for that a while ago,” Rachel says. “And I could never hate you. No matter what color your hair is, or what ironic tattoos you decide to sport - though I’d stay away from Ryan Seacrest.”

Quinn sniffles it. She’s being such a crybaby. “How can you forgive me for something I never really said sorry for? I mean…I was so awful to you.”

Rachel pulls away so that they can see each other’s faces. She shrugs. “I always figured that if I couldn’t handle high school bullies, I’d never make it on Broadway.”

“That’s not an excuse,” Quinn says.

“No. It isn’t.” Rachel idly plays with a strand of pink hair hanging in Quinn’s face. “But you’re making up for it by being my friend.” She smiles and pulls away.

It isn’t enough, but Quinn decides she’ll try. She’ll try until high school ends and they all go their separate ways because that’s the best she can do. It’s why she does nothing about the impending surprise birthday party she is going to get tomorrow.

And the party does come.

Every one is there.

Quinn’s heart melts when even Shelby stops by with Beth. Beth grins at her and grabs her hair, which Quinn learns is something Beth only does with Quinn. Probably because her hair is bright pink.

Her mother brings out the cake with 18 candles, and Rachel forces her to wear this stupid, silly crown that says: _Birthday Girl_

She feels like a kid, but it’s surprisingly fun if not a little bit smothering. She leans against the wall watching other people, but it doesn’t last long.

“Hey.” Quinn turns to see Santana. “Happy birthday,” she says.

Quinn arches an eyebrow.

“Ya old bitch.” There is is. 

“You’re up soon enough,” Quinn says.

“Yeah, yeah.” Santana takes a sip of whatever is in her red cup. “So. What are you gonna do about that?” she asks, giving a short nod over towards Rachel. She’s talking with Brittany and Sam about something right now, though both of them look entirely lost.

Quinn schools her face so that she doesn’t react to whatever claim Santana is making. “About what?” she asks, folding her arms over each other.

“You’re infatuation with Santa’s favorite elf. What do you think I mean?” Santana says.

Quinn clenches her jaw. “If you could just say what you want to say without the insulting epithets.”

“Listen, I get it,” Santana says. “Well…kind of because Brittany and I actually-” she stops when Quinn cuts her a glare rivaling those of her early high school years. “I just mean…if you want to talk about it, I guess.” She bristles. “I just want to say even though we hate each other half the time and have barely talked this year, we’re still friends.”

“We are?” Quinn questions sardonically.

“Yeah. I mean I’d still push you off the top of the pyramid, but I’d probably feel bad about it now.” She smiles.

“How are the Cheerios?” she asks. Quinn hates to admit it, but she kind of misses it. It was fun when Coach Sue wasn’t trying to shoot them out of a canon.

“Not the same without you. I mean nobody stands up to me except for Becky. Half the fun was the bitchy throw downs.”

Quinn chuckles, but it fades into nothing when Finn comes up behind Rachel and kisses her. Santana is watching her closely, she can feel it.

“I’m not going to do anything about it,” Quinn says in reference to their earlier conversation.

Santana is looking at her with what Quinn thinks is pity, but this is Santana so it might just be gas. “If you want I can hit on him,” she says. “I won’t sleep with him again,” she grimaces, “but maybe that'll shake things up a little.”

Quinn appreciates the sentiment, but she shakes her head no. “We’ve already fucked with Rachel a lot,” she says. “I just want her…” she doesn’t say _to be happy_, instead letting the sentence linger off.

Santana’s brows raise. “You love her, huh?” She smirks. “The hobbit does have some things going for her.”

“Rachel,” Quinn corrects.

Santana rolls her eyes, but smiles. “Rachel,” she agrees.

The party dwindles down slowly, leaving just Quinn, Sam (who is now in his room), her mother (who is also in her room), and surprisingly - Rachel. By herself.

“Where’s Finn?” she asks. She hadn’t seen everyone leave as she’d been saying goodbye to a fussy Beth.

“Oh I told him I’d meet up with him later. I wanted to give you your gift in private.”

Quinn doesn’t know what gift Rachel has in that bag that needs to be exchanged in a private setting.

“Don’t worry,” Rachel says, thrusting an obnoxiously sparkling gift bag towards her.

Quinn takes it, not wasting time as she plunges her hand inside. The first thing she takes out are nicotine patches.

“I didn’t know if your mom knows about you still smoking, and didn’t want to alarm anyone. And I know that you’re 18 now so it’s easy to get things; but I really hope you quit.”

Quinn offers a smile. “Thank yo-”

Rachel holds up a finger. “Wait there’s more.”

Once again her hand is fishing through the bag until she feels something hard. It’s a frame shaped like a star and outlined in gold. Inside is a picture of them, candid while at Nationals last year. They’re on stage, and Quinn is passing her as Rachel is singing. The picture is low quality and kind of blurry, but Quinn can see that they’re staring at each other.

“I was having a hard time finding pictures of us,” she says, laughing.

“I don’t think we’ve ever taken one,” Quinn admits. At least not one where the intent is focused on them. There are group pictures, and maybe even more candids like this - but -

“We should take one today,” Rachel says, taking out her phone. “Maybe you can put this in the frame instead.”

Quinn sighs when Rachel saddles next to her, holding the camera away from them. “Smile,” she says, angling her arm up. She’s too short to get them both in the picture completely. Instead it’s more like 3/4th of each of their face. Rachel is beaming, and Quinn looks only slightly annoyed.

Quinn thinks about how fucked she’s going to be when the school year ends and she says goodbye to this place, and the people.


	6. LesGay Ball

Rachel feels like she’s supposed to be different now. Tingly, or more adult maybe. She doesn’t. It was supposed to be a big deal, and it was to an extent but now that it’s over Rachel only feels mild relief that it’s something she can say that she’s done. Not that she plans on broadcasting it.

The only thing that has really changed is Finn wants to be on her all the time. She doesn’t mind the added intimacy, but she hasn’t been in any sort of mood to have sex again. It’s nothing against Finn, it’s just she’s had a lot to think about lately.

Kurt’s election as school council president is coming up, and he’s losing, and he needs to be winning so that they can go to NYADA together. There’s also the issue of Finn’s future, the issue being that as of now it doesn’t exist. Finn won’t look at any of the colleges she shows him. Then there is her own future.

And there is Quinn. She wants to talk to Quinn about Finn, but that would mean telling Quinn she had sex with Finn; and she’s been extra irritable ever since she quit smoking. Also Rachel doesn’t want it to seem like she doesn’t want Quinn’s advice. It was really good advice! She just couldn’t follow it. Extending circumstances, if you will. She’d listened to Quinn’s advice, and really thought about it and…and she wasn’t going to sleep with Finn.

Things changed though. Finn was upset because the football scouts weren’t interested in him. At the time Rachel had just wanted him to feel good about himself, about them.

So she had sex with him. It hurt at first, and it was slightly uncomfortable - but it didn’t last long.

“Rachel I don’t know what you’re going through, but you following me around is kinda creeping me out,” Tina says.

It isn’t creepy. They have 3rd period together, and Rachel is simply walking in the same direction as Tina albeit a little closely. She takes a step back, but still follows. “If this is about solos for sectionals then I-”

“It isn’t,” Rachel says, ducking her head to make sure no one relevant can hear them. She flits her eyes left and right. “Do you and Mike have…” she licks her lips and closes her eyes. This is a normal subject. There is nothing wrong with talking about sex. “Do you guys have regular sex?”

Tina’s eyes widen at that, then she blinks a few times as if processing what Rachel just asked. “Yeah,” she finally answers. “Almost every day, why?”

_Every day?_ Rachel wonders if she really is a prude, though she’s resented the title for years. “And you enjoy it?”

Tina smiles and holds her books tighter to her chest. “I have a healthy sexual appetite,” she says, and then her cheeks being to redden. “Um. Why?”

Rachel rushes past her. “No reason,” she mumbles.

Kurt said something similar. He and Blaine have been having some inseparable honeymoon phase ever since the two of them had sex. Rachel had kind of hoped Kurt would be in a similar boat given that they have equal amounts of stress on them - but he isn’t. He’s been stupidly happy despite being on the verge of losing the election.

Rachel is used to being different, but for once she wishes she felt the way they do about sex. She wishes she wanted it just a little bit more. It isn’t like she doesn’t find Finn desirable, and she’s thought about having sex with him before. It’s just that…it wasn’t good. It didn’t_ feel_ very good. When Santana had mentioned he was bad in bed, Rachel thought she was just being cruel.

Rachel figures she’ll just have to bite the bullet and tell Finn the truth at some point, but for now it’s easier to throw herself into other projects. Like Kurt’s election, and helping Quinn quit smoking.

After class she meets Quinn at her locker, a lollipop in hand.

Quinn looks at her, and then looks at the candy. It’s watermelon flavored and the same color as Quinn’s hair.

“I’ve heard that sucking on candy helps with quitting smoking. It gives your mouth something else to focus on.”

Quinn arches a brow questioningly, but opens her mouth. Her hands are filled with books, and Rachel takes the hint and sticks the lollipop into her mouth.

“Hank-who,” she mumbles around it. Rachel takes a few of her books “Thank you,” Quinn says again, now taking the candy out of her mouth. “You walking me to class?” she asks, looking at her books in Rachel’s hands.

“It’s on the way to mine.” They both fall quiet. Quinn because she’s Quinn, and Rachel because she wants to tell Quinn about Finn and she feels like she’s going to burst if she doesn’t. She just isn’t sure what to do, or how to say something. Finn’s ego is already fragile enough.

“So who are you voting for?” Rachel asks since she can’t just up and tell Quinn about her sex life in a busy hallway.

“Brittany,” Quinn says with a shrug. “She might not do anything, but she’s my friend. And she’s not a man.”

Rachel frowns. “Kurt is your friend too, Quinn.”

Quinn laughs at that. “Barely. Just because we share you-” she pauses, “just because we’re in Glee and sing songs together, doesn’t mean we’re friends. Also we’ve never had a girl president.”

“We’ve never had a gay president.”

Quinn shoots Rachel the worlds softest glare. She leans in closer to Rachel’s ear. “Never had a bi one either.”

And this is what gives Rachel the idea of re imaging of the LesGay Ball.

* * *

“LesGay Ball?” Kurt asks, his gaze just as scrutinizing as the first time Rachel brought it up years ago. 

“Yes. We should organize it, and you could be president.”

“This is supposed to help me win?”

“Yes.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

Rachel’s face falls. She thought it’d be a good idea. Kurt would have an authoritative title to his name, and it would be a great way of getting the school’s LGBT population together. Colleges love diversity, and if Kurt’s name is on the club, his resume will look more accomplished. “No. I’ve actually thought about this a lot.” She takes out the pink binder she’d organized last night. “These are some of the records of former NYADA students,” she says, flipping through the pages.

Kurt hovers over the binder, skimming some of the information on the page. “How long did this take to put together?”

“A few days. Now over here is a list of clubs formed by members. There is a trend,” she says, flipping through the pages. LGBT alliance created 1989, Lesbian/ Gay alliance, Black gays, Stonewall defenders.

Kurt’s eyebrows hike up as he looks over all the clubs. “NYADA must be very…”

“Gay,” Rachel finishes for him. “And don’t worry about the pressure and procedures of starting a club. I’ll be your standing vice president. I’ve set up 16 clubs at McKinley.” None of them lasted more than a week due to lack of attendance, but they’ve still been documented. Rachel is still upset that the Barbra Streisand themed book club was a dud.

“Okaaay,” Kurt says. “There is only one issue.”

“What?”

“Well. It’s a LesGay Ball, and unless you have any secret admissions you’d like to make, the vice president will be straight.” He eyes Rachel curiously for a moment, as if trying to see if she’s thought about this. She has, of course because she is the Rachel Berry.

“No shocking announcements, though I can admire the female form and appreciate its delicacies. I do think the club should be open to allies, if only to increase member involvement.”

Now Kurt’s look is past questioning and full on surprised. “My, my. Never thought you had it in you. A very open Kinsey scale two.” He snorts at his own joke. “I always figures if you played for the other team you’d be climbing up one Miss Quinn Fabray.”

Rachel stills at that, her hands freezing in place over the pages. For some reason her heart starts to race a little. “Quinn and I are friends, Kurt. No different than the two of us, and I don’t think about climbing you.”

“Thank heavens for that.” He puts his hand over Rachel’s. “It was a joke. I’m certainly not trying to diminish any attraction you might have to women.” After a moment of presumed thought, Kurt then tilts his head to the side. “Is there any real attraction to women?”

Rachel shrugs, chewing the inside of her lip. It isn’t something she’s thought much about if she's being honest. She was at the bottom of the social latter for so long, and then there was Finn, Puck, Jessie, Finn again, Finn now, Finn forever she thinks. Her leading man. At the same time she’d be lying if she said she’s never looked at girls in a way that might evince attraction. Girls are pretty and amazing if she thinks about the stars that she’s obsessed over all her life. “It isn’t something I really think much about,” Rachel says, truthfully. “Finn and I are in a monogamous relationship and love each other dearly, and I won’t stray again.”

“I’m not asking if you want to sleep with someone else, Rachel,” he says with a flippant throw of his hand. With the topic of sex coming up Rachel feels a drop in her overall mood. She still hasn’t figured out a solution to her situation.

“Can we just focus on the formation of the LesGayBiBall-and-allies-too club.”

Kurt looks like he’s about to say something else, but then he just sighs. “Fine. But I think we need a shorter name.”

“Okay. What?”

* * *

“Join presidential candidate Kurt Hummel’s new club: Unicorn and friends!” Rachel says, handing out pamphlets to Santana, Brittany and surprisingly Quinn. Usually Quinn goes to the student garage during lunch to smoke with the skanks. It fills Rachel with a strange pride to see that she's completely committed to quitting.

Brittany takes the pamphlet, a huge smile on her face as she looks at it with child-like excitement. “Are there gonna be real unicorns there?” 

“No,” Rachel says, noting the visible droop of her lips as she frowns. “It’s an LGBT+ alliance.”

Brittany smiles again. “Like the Justice League? I’m really happy you’re finally coming out Rachel, it’s totally great to accept who you are.”

Quinn nearly falls out of her chair. Santana just looks bored, her eyes glazed over as she glances at Brittany's pamphlet.

“It’s an ally alliance too,” Rachel clarifies. At this Quinn face goes blank once again.

Her roots are growing out, and Rachel remembers what Quinn looked like only a year ago when she sat at this table. The air of authority is still there, oddly enough.

“That’s when you don’t have sex right?” Brittany asks.

Rachel feels like she’s been kicked in the shin every time sex is brought up around her, so she’s almost grateful when Santana rips a pamphlet out of her hand because it’s a welcomed - albeit rude - change of conversation.

“Hobbit, if you’re gonna be running around and scheming to get teen gay up in the polls, you’re gonna have to do a little better than this,” Santana says, flipping the pamphlet up to showcase the art design. It’s rainbow colored with a Lisa Frank unicorn riding across the sun. Rachel thought it was cute.

“Santana,” Quinn admonishes.

Santana rolls her eyes but stops talking.

“Quinn, I’d really like it if you joined,” Rachel says, handing one over.

Quinn looks at it, and then drags her eyes back up to Rachel. “I can’t,” she says after a moment. “I already promised my mom that I’d join God Squad.” She slides the pamphlet over. “Sorry.”

Rachel could argue that Quinn has more than enough room in her schedule for another club (Rachel herself manages eight currently), but she doesn’t. She gets that Quinn has to support her friend the same way Rachel has to support Kurt. “It’s fine,” Rachel says, not unkindly. Then she digs in her bag and takes out another lollipop.

Brittany reaches for it, so Rachel gives it to her with a soft laugh before pulling out another and giving it to Quinn.

Quinn smirks and leans forward, taking it with a reluctant smile. “You know you could always just give me the stash your hiding in your purse?”

“But then I wouldn’t have a reason to randomly run up on you.”

“You don’t need a reason.”

Santana groans. “Could you guys make out somewhere else, I’m trying to eat.”

“You finished your food five minutes ago,” Brittany comments.

“I know and I’m in the process of throwing it back up.”

Rachel and Quinn both glower at her. “Well, I should be going. I still have more work to do.”

“Bye Rachel,” Brittany says with a quick wave. “I’m totally gonna join your club once I win the election. Everything is just super busy right now.”

Rachel can’t even be mad. “Thanks Brittany. See you later Quinn.” She pauses. “Santana.”

“Bye, Dwarf.”

“Santana,”” Quinn hisses as Rachel is walking away.

“Old habits.”

* * *

The next 24 hours is what Rachel can only describe as a literal nightmare.

It starts with Finn leaning over and whispering, “They’re amazing,” into Rachel’s ear. The “they” being the Trouble Tones who, to be fair, are pretty good. It’s an Adele mash up, and Rachel can give them credit where credit is due.

She doesn’t think anything is wrong until Santana slaps Finn across the cheek after demanding to know what Finn was whispering about. On top of this grand display of animosity, Quinn is glaring at Finn. A couple people are, actually. Which means Rachel missed something.

“What was that?” Rachel asks when they’re out of the auditorium. The halls are mostly empty, so she doesn’t bother lowering her voice.

Finn cups his cheek and let’s out a gruff sigh. “I kind of told her to come out of the closet in front of a bunch of people.”

Rachel stops walking with him. “You outed her?”

“She was just saying all this mean stuff, and I don’t know I lost my head.”

Rachel doesn’t want to look at his face right now. She takes in a deep breath and closes her eyes. She’s rarely disappointed in Finn, mostly because she understands him. She knows what he can do and what he can’t, and she doesn’t push too much as long as he loves her. “Finn do you remember all of the things Kurt went through? Why would you-” she stops to collect herself, and now she does meet Finn’s eyes. “Why would you think it’s okay to do something like that when they’re not ready?”

Finn takes a step closer in an attempt to embrace Rachel, but she moves back. “I didn’t mean to do anything…bad. I’m just so sick of the way she talks to me.”

“I’m not Santana’s biggest fan either, but Finn...” She just doesn’t understand why Finn would share something so personal. She didn’t think he could be that cruel. “My daddy was outed when he was 16,” Rachel says. “His parents kicked him out, and I still don’t have any contact with that side of my family. Do you understand that? Do you understand that Santana’s family might not be like Kurt’s dad. Lima is a small town.” It’s part of the reason she wants to get out. Nothing stays a secret here, no one has any genuine privacy.

“Rach…”

“I'm going home.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you should be saying sorry too.”

* * *

“Hey,” Quinn says picking up on the second ring. “You’re up late.”

Rachel is relieved. It’s 11:34 pm. “I couldn’t sleep,” she says. “I heard about what happened with Finn. How is Santana?” It’s not the reason she can’t sleep, but she is genuinely worried and upset with Finn about it.

There is a sigh on the other line. “Pissed, but coping.”

“That’s good,” Rachel says. “That she’s coping, not that she’s pissed.” Though Santana always seems a little pissed now that Rachel thinks about it. She fiddles with her bed sheet for a few minutes, content on hearing Quinn’s breathing on the other line. She finds it soothing, which is not a word she ever thought she’d describe Quinn with.

“Is that all you wanted to ask about?” Quinn asks, knocking Rachel out of her thoughtless thoughts.

“I had sex with Finn,” Rachel says, so fast that she isn’t even sure the words left her mouth. It’s a silly thing to walk on eggshells about, after all her and Finn are in love - even if she isn’t talking to him right now. They’ve been dating for a while now, and Rachel wants him in her future. Sometimes she can’t figure out how he’ll fit, like a tight piece in a puzzle; but they’ll work it out. They will, really.

“Oh,” is all Quinn says. “Is that it?” she says, blunt this time.

“It was a few weeks ago. I just…didn’t know how to tell you because I know you told me that I shouldn’t, but under the circumstances... But now I don’t really know how to, Finn isn’t, it’s just-” she can’t find the words she wants to say. It’s half explaining herself, and half explaining the situation.

The line goes dead.

Rachel calls back, but Quinn doesn’t answer this time.

**Rachel:** _Quinn??_

**Rachel:** _Are you upset?_

**Quinn:** _goin2bed_

* * *

The next day Quinn is avoiding her, and Kurt is giving his last presidential speech to the student body.

He tells them he’s going to ban dodge ball, and in the student interest polls it shows that Kurt’s rating is 12% to Brittany’s 73%.

When the day comes for all the students to vote, Rachel stuffs the ballet box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> didnt post last week cos i was out of the country. will try and post 3 chapters this week. ty for all the nice comments


	7. High School Sucks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: homophobia at the very beginning

High school sucks. Quinn didn’t always hold that opinion but getting pregnant and figuring out you’re a lesbian kind of makes you rethink certain things. Life kinda sucks sometimes too.

Quinn wants a cigarette. Or at the very least a lollipop, but right now she’s kind of avoiding Rachel. She doesn’t have any real right to be mad at Rachel. Yes, Rachel had sex with Finn, but he’s her boyfriend. And yes, Quinn told her she shouldn’t, but Quinn never said Rachel had to follow that advice. Rachel doesn’t even know Quinn’s in love with her, so why would she?

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, and Quinn is tired of crying. Seriously, if people knew just how much she cried they wouldn’t part for her when she walked through the hallways. Opening up after years of repressing emotions has opened a small, bursting damn inside of Quinn.

She groans when she feels the familiar itch of her nicotine patch. Three weeks, and she’s still craving. She isn’t sure how long she’s supposed to wear these stupid fucking things. Quinn rips it off her arm and tosses it into the nearest garbage can. Itching it feels so unbelievably good, and she only stops when she hears the familiar voice of Rachel Berry echoing through the hallways.

Quinn turns to find her standing next to…_Santana?_ Rachel is yelling at some jock. Quinn walks over when she hears, “Not that your homophobic, addlepated, pea-brain would understand any of that!”

Santana is staring at Rachel with an opened mouth, just as surprised as the swarm of jocks and Quinn are.

Quinn picks up her speed when the jocks move closer. Terry Oliver and John Crustix, both are on the varsity wrestling team; and Quinn doesn’t think either of them would hesitate to hit a girl.

“Shorty here your girl?” one of them says to Santana. He laughs before taking a step forward. Things are going to get bad if no one stops them.

Santana stands her ground. “I’d take her over your Dick Cheese and your,” she looks at the other boy with a hapless gesture, “I don’t even know where to start with insulting you. Should I go with the fact that you look like an alien implanted its seed in a Sasquatch or-“

John lifts his clenched fist, and Quinn is there holding it before it comes into contact with Santana's face. To her credit, Santana doesn’t even flinch. He spins around, looking at Quinn closely.

“Oh look, another dyke.”

Quinn takes it in stride, a shaky breath leaving her lips as she drops his hand. “Nobody here is interested in you, so why don’t you just move along.”

“And shave your back while you’re at it, beast boy.” _God Dammit, Santana._

Thank fucking God Sam and Blaine decide to show up.

Sam rushes up beside Quinn. “What’d you call her?” he asks, pushing John. It’s going to turn into a full-on brawl any second, and Quinn doesn’t want to be involved in that.

“Still wanna pick a fight?” Quinn asks, looking at Terry.

He bristles and grabs John’s arm. “Let’s go man. We don’t need to worry about a bunch of freaks anyway.”

They start to walk off, and then Santana says, “How do you deal with your mother then?”

John rushes forward, and Sam stops him, and then Sam gets punched in the face. Sam punches him back, and Terry is rushing forward towards Blaine when Mike, Puck and Finn show up.

Puck headbutts Terry before restraining him. “Say uncle,” Puck shouts.

Quinn uses the chaos to make her way towards Santana, Rachel and now Tina and Mercedes (she has no idea when they showed up).

“Quinn!” Rachel yelps. She lets out a relieved breath and grabs Quinn's arm.

“We’re leaving, we’re leaving!” John says over the noise. Somehow, he’s now bent over Puck’s knee. Quinn isn’t sure what the hell just happened, but she’s happy to see them both scurrying off without all of them being hauled into the principals office.

“What the hell happened?” Finn asks, rushing over towards Rachel.

“You,” Santana says.

Rachel looks a strange mix of uncomfortable and angry.

“Look, Santana I’m really sorry,” he says.

And then Santana smiles, almost kindly at first. “Thank you, teen Frankenstein. I’m sure that will really help me the next time I get attacked by two moving walls.” She walks away before Finn has a chance to say anything else.

“I have to go to class,” Rachel says.

“Rachel…” Finn says, reaching out.

She ignores him and then turns towards Quinn. “Quinn?”

Quinn arches one brow, but right now it’s either stand here stupidly with Finn or walk with Rachel since their classes are in the same direction.

Rachel casually hands her a lollipop.

It’s weird because Quinn wasn’t allowed to have them as a kid, and as she’s grown older, she never saw the desire; but now (and Quinn might not admit this out loud) she loves them. Just a little, and it’s not a solid replacement for cigarettes, but it’s something.

“Thanks,” Quinn mumbles.

“Always.” Rachel smiles at her. Not her normal smile, but this intense smile like she’s trying to analyze every detail of Quinn’s face.

“Stop staring at me like that. It’s creepy.”

Rachel stares even harder now, smiling wider. Quinn didn’t think that was possible. “Like what?”

Quinn rolls her eyes and chuckles. “Look, I’m sorry for the other night. I was just really tired.”

“Okay.”

“That’s it?”

Rachel nods. “Yep.”

Quinn narrows her eyes. “Really?”

“Do you want me to scold you?” Rachel asks. “Quinn, I have done research on the side effects of quitting smoking.” She gives Quinn's arm a light squeeze. “I get it. We’re friends.”

“Oh,” Quinn says, though now she feels even guiltier. “What exactly happened back there?” she asks to change subjects.

Rachel rolls her eyes, her face going from happy to angry in seconds. “Those guys started harassing Santana.”

“And you stood up for her,” Quinn asks incredulously. “Santana?”

“I know she probably could have handled it herself, and even though we aren’t best friends…or friends at all really; she’s still-“

“Part of the glee club,” Quinn finishes. “Do you think she’d do it for you?” It’s a real question because although Quinn probably would have done the same thing, Quinn and Santana have a different relationship.

Rachel ponders the thought for a second, and then shrugs. “Not everything is give and take. And I’d like to think that Santana would do the same if the roles were reversed.”

Quinn bites her lip. “I think she might,” she says. Santana’s softened a little over the years. Not much, but enough. She puts the lollipop back in her mouth, and then takes it out. “By the way, what brand are these?”

“Sweet Rush. They’re sugar free so your teeth won’t sustain any more damage that might come from smoking.” Rachel stops right outside her classroom.

Quinn never even thought about that. “See you later, Rachel.”

“Bye, Quinn!”

There goes Quinn’s attempt at avoiding Rachel.

* * *

And like that things are back to normal. Quinn doesn’t know if they were ever not normal.

The glee club sings songs to Santana. Finn apologizes again, this time by singing “_Girls Just Want to Have Fun,_” which Quinn thinks is absolutely ridiculous, but most if not everybody forgives him because he’s Finn, and Finn could never purposely do anything harmful or intentionally malicious she guesses. Even Santana hugs him.

At lunch it’s just Santana because Brittany is still doing post election stuff.

“Never come out,” Santana says with an irritated roll of her eyes. “People are either singing kum ba fucking ya, or trying to change me back.” She stabs at her salad with a fork. “You know, I’m starting to realize that high school mostly sucks.”

Quinn raises her eyebrows. “I thought you were over it. I mean you even let Finn hug you.”

“Oh please. We both know that if I didn’t forgive him the entire club would look at me like I kicked a puppy. Finn can do no wrong. Worst part is he thinks he has some kind of connection to me because I took his virginity as if we both know it didn’t last more than a minute.”

Quinn chokes on her milk and then offers a sympathetic smile.

“Now your girl gets to deal with that, I guess.”

And then Quinn is wincing. She doesn’t want to think about it. “Santana,” she groans.

“Sorry.” She holds up a hand. She actually does look sorry, and Quinn thinks about how it's kinda nice having someone who semi gets it.

“It’s okay,” Quinn says with a sigh. “And I wasn’t planning on…coming out.” It feels weird on her tongue. A part of her hasn’t come to the full realization that she has absolutely no interest in boys.

“Right…” she says. “So you’re not gonna say anything to Berry?”

Quinn laughs. “Absolutely not.”

Santana then shrugs. “For what it’s worth, she might be kind of into you.”

This is where it gets dangerous because this is where Quinn feels a sliver of hope for just a second. She can’t let that happen. “She’s in love with Finn.”

Santana stabs a tomato on her plate. “Probably.”

“I’m leaving Lima,” Quinn says after a long pause.

“Well, I’d hope. Who the fuck wants to stay here?”

“No I mean…when I leave, I’m leaving for good. I don’t want any ties to here. I just want to be somebody new.”

Santana doesn’t respond for a moment, staring at her salad. “What about your mother?”

No answer.

“Beth?”

No answer. She can’t really explain where this plan came from because really it was something she formed over time. The idea of being a completely new person, not Quinn Fabray from Lima, not Quinn Fabray head bitch, not Quinn Fabray who got pregnant at 16. Who wouldn’t want to start over?

“Well, if that’s what you want, stretch marks.” Santana stands up, taking her half eaten salad with her. “People here care about you, you know that right? Things aren’t like they were two years ago.”

“Santana…”

“I get it, Quinn. I just think you’re kind of a pussy.” She smacks her lips, taking in Quinn’s blank expression. “Just keeping it real. See you later, I mean unless you decide you wanna leave early.”

Quinn doesn’t say anything because she doesn’t have anything to say. She thought that Santana might understand because no one else would.

She’s taken out of her thoughts when her phone buzzes.

**Rachel:** _ Can you meet me in the auditorium?_

**Quinn:** _y_

**Rachel:** _Please_

Quinn tucks her phone away and tosses the rest of her lunch. She’s not really hungry anyways.

Rachel is pacing around the stage with her hands twisting together. She looks up at the sound of the door opening, and offers a pained smile. Quinn can already tell she’s going to be in for something.

“What’s up?” Quinn asks.

“I stuffed the ballot box.”

Quinn blinks once, and then a second time. “What?”

“I stuffed the ballot box because Kurt wasn’t going to win, and if he doesn’t win then he might not get into NYADA; but I overstuffed and now he’ll get suspended, and Finn told me that I need to tell Figgins, and I will - but I’m just-”

“Pause,” Quinn says, holding up a hand. “You overstuffed the ballot box, so that Kurt would win.”

“Correct.”

“And when you tell Figgins you’re going to get suspended.”

“And it will be on my permanent record, and I won’t be able to perform at sectionals. Which is why you’re here.”

Quinn looks around, confused. “Why am I here?”

“You’re going to have to take over my…” she stops, and for a second looks genuinely heartbroken. Quinn thinks she's about to cry and she isn't sure what to do about it. “You’re going to have to perform my solos. Tina will help pick up the slack, but she’s not as confident. I’m willing to work with you vocally. Mr. Shue might need to adjust the set list because of our differing range, but-”

“Pause again,” Quinn says, trying to process. Rachel won’t be able to do sectionals. If they lose sectionals, then the Trouble Tones go to regionals. If that happens glee is basically disbanded.

“Can you wait a day?” Quinn asks.

“For your lessons?”

“No. Before you tell everyone that you somehow managed to over stuff the ballot box. I mean seriously, how_ did_ you manage that?”

Rachel shrugs sheepishly. “I don’t know, _Quinn._ I’m not usually inclined to perform in criminal acts.” She wraps her arms around herself defensively. “What are you planning on doing?” she then asks after a beat.

“Do you have anymore lollipops?” Quinn asks. She’s been tapping her foot to compensate for the fact that she can’t shake her leg. She’s getting that craving.

Rachel pulls one out of her bag and hands it over.

“You’re not dropping out of Sectionals,” is all Quinn says as she walks off. She’s got more pull in this school than Rachel does, even now.

Luckily Tina is in her next class. She sits next to her today, and gets a brief look of shock in response. Quinn’s preferred the back ever since she started her skank days. “Hey,” Quinn says. “I need your help.” Tina looks at Quinn like she’s just said Mr. Shue is a good rapper. Quinn waves her hand in front of Tina’s face. “You there?”

“Yes. I’m sorry…you don’t talk to me much.”

“Oh. Um. Sorry, but it’s an emergency. Principal Figgins still thinks you’re a vampire right?”

“Yeah, totally.”

Quinn smiles and nods. “Good.”

A series of events that Quinn plans on never mentioning in her life again then happens:

Tina goes into Figgins office with a pair of molded fangs.

Figgins screams.

Tina says she has a vampire protege.

**Entering the scene:** Quinn Fabray.

Figgins screams again.

Quinn threatens him, and tells him to forget about the ballot. As she says this she has a lisp because of the fangs.

Figgins protests and defends the honor of school elections.

Quinn hisses.

Figgins agrees to forget the ballot, but Brittany will be president.

**End scene**

The worst part is Quinn kind of enjoyed it. Both the scaring part and the acting part. Quinn considers that she may be a bit of a dweeb.

But all is well that ends well, and the drama of the election fades into nothing as Kurt tells Rachel that Figgins has decided not to investigate. When Rachel asks what Quinn did, Quinn just says, “Don’t worry about it,” and then more seriously, “Really, Rachel. Don’t worry about it.”

“Today way fun, Quinn!” Tina says walking out of the choir room, hand in hand with Mike. She then hisses, and Quinn thinks that she should have told Tina to sign an NDA.

Quinn grabs Rachel’s hand with both of hers. “_Do. Not. Worry.”_

It’s only seconds later when Santana walks up with Brittany. Brittany is wearing a pink crown that says: Presidon't.

Santana looks at Quinn. “Ms. Corcoran wants you. Where’s Puck?”

No one says anything, so Santana walks off.

Quinn’s heart rate spikes. If she wants her and Puck, that means it’s something about Beth. She rushes off, and when she enters the office, Shelby is calmly writing something down in a notebook.

“Oh, hey, Quinn. Where’s Noah?”

“Don’t know.”

She sighs and waves her hand for Quinn to sit. “I want you to know, that I think it’s important for you and Noah to be in Beth’s life,” she says. “If you want. I don’t want what happened with Rachel and I to be the case for you.”

Quinn starts to feel this guilt building in her chest.

“So don’t let what I’m about to say think different.”

Quinn nods, ready for the worst, almost hoping for it - and she feels so sick at the thought.

“I’m moving,” she says. “To New York.” She lets out a breath. “I thought I wanted to raise a child here because it’s smaller and more open but…then I see how much all you kids want to get out.” She looks down at her papers and back up. Quinn can see moisture gathering in her eyes. “I have been out of high school for a long time. I want her to be somewhere that’s got all types of people around who might understand her. I just…It’s a small town.” She shrugs haplessly.

Quinn is going to cry. She doesn’t know why yet, but she feels the heaviness set in her chest, and the shortness of her breaths. She feels the first tear drop to her cheek. “That’s-” she swallows. “That’s probably for the best,” she says and laughs without humor.

“I want options. They have one therapist in this entire town.” She wipes her eyes. “But I’m going to give you the address, and my number. You and Noah can write, and call, and visit if you let me know ahead of time.”

“Okay,” Quinn says nodding. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Anything.”

Quinn bites her lip, unable to speak for a moment. “Do you love Rachel?”

At that, Shelby smiles. “I do,” she says. “She’s…you might not believe it, but I love her so much. She’s bright, and beautiful, and smart. She’s going to be everything I couldn’t be, and more.”

Quinn thinks about Beth, and how afraid she is that one day she might not love her the same. “That’s good. Rachel is…special.”

“Isn’t she?” Shelby chuckles. “You’re smart, too, Quinn,” Shelby says a few seconds later. “You got any plans after this? School?”

Quinn swipes her hand through her hair, and for a second she thinks it’s blond again. “Yeah,” Quinn says. “I’m gonna go to school.” She thinks about her bookmarks on Yale; the standards, the programs. Quinn isn’t exactly sure what she wants to do, but Yale would probably be a good place to figure that out.

“Good.” Shelby gives her an awkward pat on the hand, and Quinn takes that as cue to leave. “And before you leave-” Quinn stops with her hand on the door’s handle. “Can you not tell anyone besides Noah? I want to tell Rachel and the girls separately.”

“When are you leaving?”

“After sectionals.”

“Can you tell Rachel soon? I don’t want to keep things away from her.” She’s already messed up enough, and she’s afraid Rachel’s going to run out of second chances to give her. Then again Quinn thinks that maybe that’s for the best.

“Yeah,” Shelby says softly. “How do you think she’ll take it?”

Quinn doesn’t have an answer to that, so she shrugs and leaves.


	8. k

Rachel didn’t really had an overwhelming desire to seek out her birth mother until she was much older. If she’s being honest with herself, she might not have ever attempted to find Shelby if she hadn’t had the catalyst of Jessie Saint James. There were reasons for this. Namely fear of rejection, and not wanting to upset her dads because they’re her real parents. Rachel didn’t want them to ever think that she felt otherwise.

The first time Rachel remembers understanding the concept of Mother comes from a cloudy memory when she was three. One of those memories that’s more shapes and sounds than actual events. She’d been on the couch, and _Up the Sandbox_ was playing. There was a family on TV. Barbra Streisand was a mother. Rachel didn’t have one of those. She had two dadas. Respectively now: Dad and Daddy.

It didn't bother her. The only thing that bothered Rachel at three years old is when she would fall asleep because she didn’t want to sleep she wanted to sing more, but she could never help the slow droop of her eyes. Especially when daddy carried her around on his back.

The second time Rachel remembers thinking about Mothers came when she was five. The first ballet recital that she remembers in its entirety, though she knows she’d been enrolled in numerous dance and pageants prior.

Almost every other child had a set of parents. Mother and Father. Rachel instead had two Fathers. People stared at her, and they talked about her because she was different. Rachel did not know the difference between good attention and bad attention at the time. And Rachel _loved_ attention. She liked being the center of the room, the brightest star, the one people watched.

As far as she was concerned, not having a Mother and Father was good. It was like having two desserts without having to eat dinner. She bragged about it, and most of the kids didn’t think much about it until they understood what two dads meant.

Rachel learned the word “gay” at six. “There are times when boys and girls fall in love with each other. There are times when girls and girls fall in love with each other. There are times when boys and boys fall in love with each other,” her dad had told her.

“Am I gay?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. You’ll find that out yourself.” And that was that.

It wasn’t until middle school that Rachel realized there was good attention and there was bad attention. She didn’t like the bad attention so much. Her dads told her any press was good press. Then they told her people made fun of Barbra too, and that made Rachel feel marginally better.

Still. She didn’t like the slurs kids would say in reference to her fathers - and there was really no way to redirect that pain. But Rachel could deal with being called freak because at some point she realized that maybe she was a freak, and maybe that wasn’t so bad because normal people didn’t get listed on Broadway playbills. Normal people didn’t do what she was going to do. Any insults towards her just meant that she wasn’t like them. She was sure that being like them would be bad; but sometimes she imagined being normal.

She imagined having a mother. In these fantasies her mother was always Barbra Streisand and one time Patti LuPone, but mostly Barbra. She imagined being popular, she imagined everyone in school bowing at her feet. She did love attention after all. She imagined every one in this stupid town realizing that she was great, she was Rachel Berry. A force to be reckoned with. Of course one day they would figure it out, but she wanted it to be sooner rather than later.

In the end this was mostly fantasy. Though she envied Quinn Fabray more than anything at times. Popular, smart, and _so_ pretty. Rachel has always known she was a star, but Quinn could shine so bright sometimes, effortlessly.

And sometimes she envied the Mother/Father homes. In moments when Rachel wondered if that’s why she was ostracized, if that was the root cause. Who would she be with a mother? How would that have changed the way she grew?

Rachel pushed those thoughts away when she decided that she liked who she was even if other people didn’t. Things were falling in place. New Directions happened. She had friends. Sometimes Quinn Fabray was nice to her.

Then she heard that woman’s voice. Her mother. And then she had seen her, and they looked alike, they acted similar, they were both performers. Still, she didn't know her.

Rachel Berry had a Mother, but she was a stranger. An important stranger, but still a stranger no matter how much she didn’t want that fact to be true.

Her name is Shelby Corcoran.

Rachel still doesn’t quite understand their relationship. There is an innate familiarity that Rachel can’t deny, but at the same time Rachel doesn’t know what her favorite vegetable is, or her favorite song, or her favorite movie. She doesn’t know the feeling of Shelby’s hand on the small of her back when she got food poisoning at eight years old.

“I’m moving,” Shelby says. There’s one week until sectionals, and Rachel just assumed their meeting was related to that. Shelby begging her to join Trouble Tones, maybe. Or maybe it was related to college. Or maybe something else entirely. Rachel is sitting across from her in a small office, hands on her lap as she thinks about how she’s supposed to react to this news.

“To New York,” she clarifies during Rachel’s stretch of silence. “I still have some contacts, and I’m going to be a private instructor in the city. Flexible hours, better pay,” she explains.

“Oh,” Rachel finally says. “That’s good.” She isn’t even sure if this is something she should be told. She closes her eyes tight and grimaces. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to this.” Shelby has left before, Shelby’s cut ties with Rachel before. The appropriate response to one’s mother moving might be sadness, it might be anger. Rachel is just stuck on trying to understand how she feels.

“I don’t either,” Shelby says, the edges of her lips lifting a little. This is good. This is common ground. She laughs and props her head on her hands. “I want to know you better,” she says after a beat. Rachel’s breath catches, and she’s uncertain all over again. “I know we’re still kind of-”

“Strangers?”

“Yes. That,” Shelby says, lifting her chin. “I couldn’t see you grow up, but I can see you rise to the top.” Rachel smiles reflexively at that. “And I have a feeling we’ll both be in the same city again soon.” She winks, and now Rachel is fully beaming at her.

“I think I’d like that,” Rachel says. “We could be…friends.” It’s strange to think that the woman is birthed her would be something as simple as a friend, but Rachel thinks that’s what works with them.

“There’s so much I want to know,” she says. She starts writing something down. “I’m leaving shortly after sectionals. I don’t want to tell the girls just yet. It was kind of a last minute thing.” Shelby hands Rachel a piece of paper with an address and number.

“Did you tell Quinn?” Rachel asks, thinking of the only reason she’s allowed to perform in sectionals. Beth means so much to her.

“Yes. I told her that I wanted to let you know personally,” Shelby says.

Rachel lets out a breath at that.

“You guys are pretty good friends, huh?” she asks, the whites of her teeth flashing as she smiles. “She told me to tell you as soon as possible so she wouldn’t have to keep it from you.”

“Yes.” Rachel loves having Quinn as her friend. It’s a sort of accomplishment to her, but she also just genuinely enjoys her and sometimes even understands her despite them seemingly being complete opposites. In some ways the differences that once made them enemies make them even better friends. “You wouldn’t believe me if you saw how we used to act around each other.”

Shelby shakes her head. “I don’t know Rachel. You’re good at making the impossible possible.”

Rachel stands. “I guess I’ll…see you around,” she says with a curt nod.

“See you, Rachel.”

She closes the door behind her as she leaves, grinning up at Finn from where he’s been waiting outside of the office.

He looks past her and at the door for a second, shifting his eyes back to Rachel almost immediately. “You were in there for a little while.” He chuckles and slides his hand over Rachel’s as they make their way out of the school. “Started to get worried. What was that all about?”

Rachel doesn’t want to lie to Finn. Relationships should always be built on trust, and she does trust Finn; but at the same time it’s not really her secret to tell. She doesn’t want Finn to accidentally let something slip because news travels fast at McKinley. If Mercedes, or any of the Trouble Tones find out by the wrong person at the wrong time it might jeopardize the integrity of the New Directions win at sectionals. A while ago Rachel might not have minded, but now she finds that she wants to beat them on fair ground (and she will).

Rachel tightens her grip on his hand and says, “Will you be upset if I say that I can’t quite tell you yet?”

Finn looks at her, mouth slack and eyes narrowed as he tries to figure out what she’s thinking. “It’s not anything bad, right?”

“No, no,” she assures swiftly. “It doesn’t really involve us. Well - it involves me, partly because Shelby is my, well, birth mother. But-”

Finn’s mouth has relaxed into a goofy grin. “Well then it’s okay.” He kisses her on the cheek. “So we’re going back to my place?” he asks, and then he lifts his eyebrows a few times suggestively. Rachel saw this coming.

She has gotten some advice on her situation via online forums - though most of the advice was crude, some was helpful. She does wish that Finn thought about his future as much as he thinks about having sex - but alas. There’s still time, she thinks. There’s always time for Finn.

Rachel nods. “Mm hmm.”

“Sweet,” and then he’s practically dragging Rachel out of the school.

Unfortunately for Finn, when they do get to his place it’s a bit crowded. Kurt, Blaine, Brittany and Santana are all gathered around the couch in the living room, which makes Rachel do a double take to make sure she’s not in some bizarre dream. When she looks again they’re all there, and Rachel tampers down any hope that Barbra might come out and sing a number with her, which is a common recurrence in her dreams, though sometimes those dreams turn to nightmares and instead of singing Mr. Shue’s voice comes out of her mouth and he’s rapping instead of singing. She shivers.

“Rachel!” Kurt squeaks, standing up and rushing straight for her. “I’m stealing your girlfriend,” he then says, grabbing Rachel’s forearm and doing just that.

“Dude, not cool,” Finn says.

Rachel hesitates for a second, digging her feet into the ground. She needs to have this particular discussion with Finn, and also Brittany and Santana are in the Trouble Tones. Rachel already wants to tell them about Shelby leaving because she isn’t that good at keeping big secrets.

“You’re the reason for this mess. Now come on,” Kurt says.

Santana seems amused with the whole thing, leaning further against the couch to rest on Brittany. “Oh, I don’t mind waiting for whatever 30 second pump and dump liaison you two have planned.”

Finn turns bright red, and Rachel has to tamper down the urge to defend him as she’s pretty certain saying, “It’s actually 1 minute and 20 seconds,” would not fair well for Finn.

Brittany turns to face them. “After sex I like to eat teddy grams because bears are the sex symbol of the animal planet ever since jungle book. But after I eat we have more sex, and then I get thirsty and drink Dr. Pepper, who by the way isn’t a real doctor.”

Santana snickers. Kurt and Blaine both look pale.“I’m gonna…gonna do homework.” Finn’s red up to the tips of his ears. Rachel thinks that she might change her answer to the Santana question Quinn proposed.

“Finn…” Rachel says, as sympathetically as she can.

“Not now, Rachel,” Finn says as he hurries off.

“Really?” Rachel asks, eyes narrowed in Santana’s direction.

“Yeah that was pretty harsh, Santana,” Blaine chimes in. Rachel regards him with a polite nod.

Santana shrugs, now focusing on her nails. “Just keeping it real. You should probably be thanking me.”

Rachel scoffs. “Okay why are you here?” She then looks at Kurt. “Why is she here?”

“Hey! You’re the one who invited us to join your gay club,” Santana says.

“Gay club?” Rachel says and then she remembers and lets out a quiet, “Oh.” _Unicorns and allies._

“Rachel Berry’s brilliant idea,” Kurt says, dragging Rachel towards the living room once again.

Blaine looks at Rachel and smiles. “I personally think it’s an amazing idea, Rachel. I mean McKinley isn’t known for it’s acceptance and this might be a way to…” he tilts his head back and forth, “broaden their view.”

Brittany nods. “I also think it’s really cool. We can talk about like all the celebrities we think are gay. Like JFK.”

“_Oookay,_” Kurt says into the lingering silence since no one is willing to ask why Brittany thinks JFK is gay. “Now that we have our famed vice president,” he pats Rachel on the small of her back, “I suppose we can get started.”

“Why does Rachel get to be vice president?” Santana asks.

“Because it was my idea,” Rachel says back. “And by the way - club meetings are supposed to happen at school.”

“Oh. Well, I just became the official president because they killed the lame duck. All clubs have to be approved by me now.”

“So are we approved?” Kurt asks.

_“Duh_,” Brittany says. “Why else would I be here? But the mascot has to be a Catcorn.”

This is ridiculous, Rachel thinks, and if this wasn’t important to Kurt’s future standing with NYADA she’d leave. Dramatically at that. “Catcorn?”

Santana fishes through her bag and pulls out a poster. On the poster is an overweight cat with a horn coming out of its head. “Gay rights for cats,” Brittany says.

Blaine actually smiles at the poster. Kurt gives it an appraising look. “I think it’s…” he starts, “wonderful.” But he’s giving her that tight, fake smile he always gives Barista's when they spell his name with a _C_.

The meeting is overall unproductive, and Brittany and Santana both leave the second Santana declares that she’s hungry.

“I have no idea how I’m going to do this,” Kurt says, rubbing his face with his hand. Rachel offers a kind smile in sympathy.

Blaine kisses him lightly on the lips. “You’re gonna be great. Once we get our footing and get some more kids to join, I’m sure that this club is going to help.”

“_And_,” Rachel starts, “it’s definitely not going to hurt your chances of getting into NYADA.”

Rachel catches Blaine falter slightly, but Kurt doesn’t. Kurt grabs her hand and they swing back and forth for a few moments. “Not much longer here,” he says wistfully.

Rachel grins. “Off to New York we go, but right now I need to go see Finn.”

Kurt grimaces. “Right. Well…you have fun with that.”

And with that Rachel is knocking on the door to Finn’s room.

They probably won’t be doing anything…intimate because Burt and Carole will be home soon and they have a respectable open door policy; but they can at least talk about it. “Finn?” Rachel says when no one answers.

“I’m tired, Rachel.”

“It’s 4 pm.”

No answer. Rachel rolls her eyes and knocks again.

Nothing.

“Well if you’re going to be like that, I’m leaving.”

Cue dramatic walk out. She pauses at the door to tell Kurt, “Tell Finn to talk to me when he isn’t being a _stupid jerk_,” and she yells this last part to make sure he can hear it all the way up in his room.

“Noted,” Kurt says.

Blaine waves. “Later Rachel.”

Rachel leaves, fully prepared to spend the rest of the night singing sad love songs, but then Quinn texts her.

**Quinn:** _do u have nymore lollipops_

Rachel finds herself smiling again.

**Rachel:** _You know you can just go to the store_

**Quinn:** _k_

Rachel isn’t smiling anymore.

**Rachel:** _:(_

**Rachel:** _Did you just k-bomb me?_

_ **Quinn is typing…** _

_ ** Quinn stopped typing** _

_ ** Quinn is typing…** _

_ ** Quinn stopped typing** _

_ ** Quinn is typing…** _

**Quinn:** _no_

**Rachel:** _I’m coming over_

**Quinn:** _k_

**Rachel:** _S T O P_

_ **Quinn is typing…** _

**Quinn:** _kay_

**Quinn:** _:)_

* * *

“Sending someone a single ‘kay’ text message is a form of psychological warfare, and I’ll be sending you my therapy bills, Quinn Fabray,” Rachel says, her face formed into a scowl that’s 100% theatrical, but gets the point across.

Quinn leans against the door frame, arms folded over one another. The leveled smirk she gives makes her look less like rebel Quinn, and more like head cheerleader Quinn - and Rachel wonders if one ever replaced the other, or if Quinn just has several aspects to her personality - some of which were not put out into the open before. “Is it now?” Quinn says.

Rachel takes a lollipop out of her bag, noting that Quinn’s hand is already reaching out slightly. Rachel opens it and puts it in her mouth, smiling around it when Quinn gives an affronted gasp. “I’m starting to think the old Quinn never left,” Rachel says jokingly.

Quinn chuckles and moves so that Rachel can come in. “You know I was just thinking about how I should get Coach Sue to sabotage New Directions before sectionals, but I thought psychological warfare might be funnier. Do you have anymore?”

Rachel sighs, over the top as she lets her entire body sag for just a second. “This is my last one,” she says around the candy. She takes it out of her mouth and offers it.

“Now what would you do if I actually licked that?” Quinn says, staring at the saliva covered candy.

“Question your sense of hygiene.” Rachel takes another lollipop out and gives it to Quinn.

“See. I’m finally getting into your head.”

Rachel takes her shoes off and leaves them by the door before following Quinn deeper inside of the house. They’re stopped by Sam.

“Hello ladies,” he says, and then looks at Quinn. “Can I borrow the car?”

“Just don’t get hit by a truck or anything.”

“Nothing can stop the man of steel,” he says in a voice that tells Rachel he is making a reference, but she doesn’t actually know what he’s referencing. She gives a short laugh, the same one she gives Finn when he brings up football. “Later,” he says, as he walks past Rachel to leave.

“What’s man of steel?” Rachel asks.

“Iron man,” she says, making her way up the stairs.

Rachel gives a soft_ hm_ in acknowledgment, and the conversation is over.

“So do you wanna practice for sectionals?” Quinn asks.

Rachel gasps. “Did you ask me all the way over here for free vocal lessons?”

Quinn throws a pillow at Rachel’s head, but she dodges it, picking it up and throwing it back at Quinn. “You were the one who invited yourself over,” Quinn grunts before she throws the pillow back. Rachel sees the way she’s trying not to smile, forcing her lips to crease downward.

“Because _you_ asked about lollipops. You know Quinn, I’m starting to think that you like and value you me as a friend, which means you missed my presence.” Rachel doesn’t throw the pillow this time, but instead thumps it over Quinn’s pink head.

Quinn’s mouth goes slack as she takes in what has just happened. “Berry are you starting a pillow war with me?”

Rachel shakes her head. “Nope.” And then because she’s smiling more than she has in a week, Rachel hits her again.

Thus the war commences. Quinn has the advantage, and continues to pelt smaller bed pillows at Rachel with one hand, whilst swinging with her own larger pillow. Rachel keeps a valiant effort, but it ends when Quinn hits her ankle and she topples over onto the bed right next to Quinn.

“That wasn’t fair,” Rachel huffs, part of it muffled into the bedding.

“All's fair in love and war.”

Rachel turns on her side and laughs. “I don’t think either of us fought fairly on that front.” Rachel is hit over the head with a pillow. “We were at a truce!”

“No mercy.”

Rachel uses the pillow to prop her head up and look at Quinn. Her cheeks are a little red, hair messy and pulling in 15 different directions - somehow she’s still the prettiest girl Rachel has ever seen. She’s always wondered what it would be like to look the way Quinn looks.

“I talked to Shelby,” Rachel says.

Quinn turns her head to look at Rachel fully. Her jaw is shut tight, lips pursed. “So you know.”

Rachel nods. “How are you?” she asks, reaching for Quinn’s hand and squeezing lightly. Quinn then laughs, but Rachel doesn’t know why. “What?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing. I just…didn’t expect you to- I don’t know. It’s nothing.” Quinn bites her lip and lulls her head to the side. “I don’t know how it feels. It hasn’t happened yet. I still feel like she’s—she’s mine. I still wonder what it would have been like if I kept her, and what it would be like it I stole her away. But…I think I’m okay.”

"Well, I'm glad you're okay," Rachel says, grinning. "I'm glad we're friends."

"You're okay, I guess" Quinn says dully. Rachel throws the pillow from under her head at Quinn. 

Quinn catches it, and then tosses it back. She looks down and smiles. "What do you think about Yale?" she asks. 

Rachel's eyebrows knit together. "Oh, no. I have my sights set on NYADA," she says, though she thought it was obvious. 

"No, for me," she says. That makes more sense. "I'm not the singer that you and Kurt are, but Yale has an amazing drama program. And I really do like to perform."

Rachel feels a surge of warmth. She's happy for Quinn, happy that she's figuring things out, happy that she knows how good she is. "Yeah?"

"Certainly would nail all the parts where the girl has to cry," she says dryly.

Rachel is about to tell her how great of an idea that is when the doorbell rings five times in rapid succession. Quinn’s face immediately hardens and she lets out what Rachel thinks is a growl. “Rude mailman?” Rachel asks. 

“Puck,” Quinn says.

Rachel bites the inside of her cheek. “Are you guys-”

“No,” she says as she stands up.

Rachel eyes her as she makes her way to the door, and then she decides she should probably be getting home soon because her Dads are cooking tonight. She is curious about Puck, but who wouldn’t be with their history. Quinn is, of course, too good for Puck; and that’s something that Rachel might tell her if she wasn’t so sure that Quinn is uninterested. Rachel likes Puck, of course. He’s a dear friend - but Quinn is…special.

They walk to the door together, Rachel with her things in tow.

“You’re leaving?” Quinn asks. If Rachel squints she thinks she might see the tiniest hint of disappointment. She looks at the time on her phone and sees three missed texts from Finn, and one from her Daddy.

“My dads are cooking tonight. You’re welcome to come over if you want,” she says, a little hope easing into her voice. The doorbell rings again.

“My mom is gonna be home soon, and she’s been kind of adamant on family dinners lately,” Quinn says with a sigh. The doorbell rings again, this time twice. “I’m coming!” Quinn shouts.

She jerks the door open.

Puck stands on the welcome mat, lips parting as he takes in both Quinn and Rachel. He smiles. “Was I interrupting something?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows.

Quinn sneers, and Rachel takes that as cue to leave.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Quinn,” she says, and then, “Puck.”

“Later, Rachel.”

* * *

Finn calls her later, after dinner. She thinks about not answering, but accepts it after three rings.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I was being a stupid idiot - I just…you don’t get it. You’re a girl, and you weren’t really defending me-”

Rachel sucks in a breath through her teeth. “I was trying to, but I didn’t really get the chance, Finn. What did you want me to do? _Lie_?” And then Rachel covers her mouth, nearly dropping the phone. She mentally curses Santana for the eighth time of the day.

There’s silence on the other line.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, you did,” he says.

Rachel sucks in her bottom lip, trying to figure out what to say next. She read on the forums that the male ego can be very fragile when it comes to these things. “We’ll…work on it,” she offers.

“Yeah,” Finn says, but he still sounds defeated. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Before Rachel goes to bed she sends one last text to Quinn.

**Rachel:** _Yale is a great idea._

**Quinn: ** _k_

**Quinn: ** _Thanks _

Rachel rolls her eyes but can't help smiling as she puts her phone away. 

* * *

Things are weird between her and Finn. He’s more distant, but Rachel doesn’t push it because they both have more to worry about than premature ejaculation. Like sectionals, and Rachel is relentless with rehearsal. She’s even been attending booty camp.

Quinn doesn’t really need the extra help, but it’s good for the rest. Especially Finn, though she finds his stumbling around pretty cute sometimes. He’s like Bambi. But right now he needs to focus because Rachel has seen what the Trouble Tones are capable of, and she’ll be damned if she loses.

How will she explain that in her future autobiography? There needs to be an upward trajectory of victory, which means she needs to go all the way to nationals, and beat everyone so bad they never forget the up and rising star: Rachel Berry.

She holds every one for extra hours when she can, and when she can’t (meaning everyone just leaves, and Mr. Shue tells Rachel that he legally cannot hold the rest of the glee club) she practices with Quinn, Kurt and Finn when he isn’t being particularly weird about their earlier conversation. She actually gets Quinn’s range up half a note.

And then sectionals come. It all happens so fast. One minute they’re watching the Trouble Tones, and the next Rachel is up on stage belting her heart out, and then it’s over.

New Directions are called out for first place. Rachel jumps up, smiling at Quinn and hugging her before turning to Finn.

Even the celebration happens fast because soon enough the Trouble Tones are walking by them, and Rachel loves victory, but she can’t help but feel like it would have been sweeter with all of New Directions winning.

In the end, the Trouble Tones come back. They all sing a song, and as Rachel looks around and sees the original members all there. Everything seems right, and she thinks that this might just turn out to be the perfect senior year she’d always envisioned.

She’s wrong.


	9. XXXmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suuuuuper late update but i got busy during the holiday.

25 days until Christmas, and Quinn is standing atop a mountain of snow.

Quinn breathes out, her lungs burning with the intake of winter air, and as she exhales she watches a cloud leave her mouth. Her nose is pinker than her hair right now, and despite shifting from right leg to left leg she isn’t getting any warmer. Rachel is going inside of the house to help her mother make some cookies, and Quinn wonders if she could get away with slipping inside too.

She’s taken out of her thoughts when she feels a wet mush of ice come into contact with the back of her head. Quinn grits her teeth. “Sam,” she mutters. Rachel is already halfway through the door and doesn’t catch the assault, or hear Quinn’s words due to the whistling wind.

The door closes, and Quinn lets out a low whimper as the snow falls down her back. 

She’s hit with another snow ball. “Stop staring,” Sam says, “Help me.”

Quinn turns. “I wasn’t staring,” she says. Sam gives her a dull, yet questioning look. “Okay, I was, but not for the reason you’re thinking. It’s cold.”

“Yeah. The faster you help me, the faster we can get inside,” he says, dragging a large box of Christmas decorations out from the garage.

Her mother had been thrilled when Sam offered to help decorate the house this year. They didn’t do much last year in terms of decorations because there was no “man of the house.” Dad and Frannie did it together every year before, and when she went to college, Quinn helped some. Her mother can’t do much of the outside work, and Quinn wasn’t going to do it by herself last year - so other than a few snow men and a reef, the house had been largely vacant in terms of Christmas spirit.

They cancelled school because of the snow, so it was her idea to get the decorations done today, but she didn’t know it would be fucking freezing outside. She crosses her arms over one another and dredges her way over to the garage, but not before stopping to scoop up a decent amount of snow.

She doesn’t throw it, instead moving behind Sam and pouring it down the collar of his neck. He squeals like a little girl and jumps around trying to get it all out, and it might just be the funniest thing Quinn has seen in her life. She doubles over, holding her knees as she tries to control her laughter. The breaths she’s taking in are sharp and painful, but Sam is still hopping around and doing everything to get the snow out from under his shirt and jacket.

When Sam finally stands up straight, he dips to the ground and starts rolling up a snowball. “You’re gonna regret that,” he says.

As he’s doing that, Quinn also moves to the ground. Neither of them hear the door open, and Sam’s arm is pulled backwards as he prepares to throw.

“Do you guys want the Christmas tree cookies, or peppermint bark?” Rachel says as Sam throws the ball of snow.

Quinn ducks, and manages to land her snowball right against Sam’s face. Despite the snow in his mouth, Sam’s attention is towards the door. His eyes are opened too wide.

Quinn turns to see Rachel standing there, mouth agape as snow slides down her nose.

Sam looks up in wide-eyed horror. “I am _so_ sorry, Rachel.” Rachel makes no attempt to speak as she wipes the snow from her eyes. “Quinn started it.”

Quinn jerks her head over to him. “I didn’t.” And she notes how the back of her head is still freezing cold from the first initiated attacks.

Rachel bends over and starts forming a snowball. It’s massive, almost as big as Sam’s head. Quinn doesn’t say anything, simply watching the slow turn of events.

“Rachel what are you doing?” Sam asks, laughing shortly after.

She looks up. Her face is bright red where the snow connected. “Playing,” she says, _still_ gathering snow somehow. “I have snowball fights with my dad’s almost every year. I’ve never lost.”

“How do you lose a snow ball fight?” Sam asks.

“I would move back if I were you,” Rachel says, still gathering snow. Quinn notes the fear flickering in Sam's eyes and doesn't bother hiding her growing amusement. 

Sam listens to Rachel and makes a slow retreat backwards, and that’s when it happens. Rachel packs a small, tight ball of snow and throws it up so it lands on the roof. Quinn's confusion lasts only for a second and then she looks up at the collected snow on the gutters. A small mountain falls on top of Sam’s head.

“Appear strong when you are weak," Rachel says. "Peppermint bark or Christmas trees?”

Quinn still can’t see Sam’s face.

She recognizes the quote from Art of War. Coach Sue made them read it freshman year, and then she made them recite it in unison while building a pyramid. Quinn smirks. "Christmas trees."

Rachel smiles. “I’ll go tell Judy.”

The door opens and closes behind Rachel.

“She’s really scary,” Sam says. Quinn turns to see a large clump of snow fall from Sam's hair.

Quinn smiles and shakes her head whilst walking back to the garage. The feeling of the cold starts to come back as her heart slows down a little. “Come on, let’s get this finished before I get hypothermia.”

"That was terrifying,” he says, still standing still.

“I’m quaking in my boots. Help me with this box.”

Sam walks over and gets the other side. She’s pretty sure it’s the box of lights, but doesn’t know why it’s so heavy. Unless she’s getting out of shape…

When she looks up, Sam is grinning at her stupidly.

“What?”

“I’m starting to figure some things out about you,” he says as they lower the box by the latter.

“You're thinking, Sam?” Quinn questions. “I was wondering where all the smoke from your head was coming from; thought it was fumes from all that hair dye.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re one to talk.”

“Keep it up and your hair is gonna be white again,” Quinn says. She opens the box and sees their old Christmas tree. They didn’t like to bother with the real thing every year, so her Dad had gotten an artificial one and sprayed pine scent on it.

“Rachel’s scarier than you,” Sam says, bristling.

If Quinn had something in her mouth she might do a spit take. After years of being able to intimidate people with just a look, Rachel just pours some snow on Sam and he’s trembling. “She’s 5 foot 3.” Which is something that Quinn thinks is cute, not that she’d tell Sam that. Not that she’d tell anyone that. 

Sam stands so that he’s looking down at Quinn. “You have a whole two inches on her.” He starts to take some lights out of the box, looping them around his arm. “Quinn. You’re like…repressed.”

Quinn stares at him blankly. Sam has come to the conclusion she reached at the end of last school year. “You should be a psychologist,” she deadpans before digging through the box to get the non-colored lights. Her mom likes them to be draped around the snowman village. “Since you want to brag about being taller, you can do the roof.”

“Was already on it.” He smiles at her. Santana was right. Trouty mouth. “And I didn't it mean it like...whatever way you think I mean it. I mean it like ever since I’ve known you, you’ve never been a kid.”

Quinn arches her eyebrow. It hurts, and she thinks her face might be actually frozen. Sam hasn't known her _that _long.

“You’re always so serious,” he explains further. “Which given, well, everything…it makes sense. But when was the last time you had a snowball fight besides today?”

Quinn doesn’t answer, not because she doesn’t have an answer. She was 12, and no one had been around except for her sister. It lasted all of five minutes when her father went to check on them. He didn’t catch them, if he had they would have been scolded. Girls shouldn't do those kinds of things. Snow was dirty.

“Even when we dated, it was like…I don’t know. Formal or something. Like an audition...”

“Well why’d you date me then,” she bites out. The conversation is going from fun teasing, to something too deep for her to want to deal with right now. Especially not out in this cold.

Sam heads over towards the latter with the lights and some pins. “You’re cool,” he says, simply. “I like hanging out with you.” He climbs up, not paying attention to the way Quinn is staring at him like he should be admitted into a mental institution.

“Bigger question,” he says, and then huffs as he positions himself up on the roof. “Why’d you date me?”

Quinn rubs her hands together and blows into them, hoping her breath will be warm through the gloves. “You were nice.” She drags two crates through the snow. Sam was the nicest person Quinn ever dated, and she still didn’t want him. She wanted to want him though. It was easy. Easier than what she currently feels for the 5 foot 3 woman who is inside of her house.

She starts to set up the snow man village. There’s a specific order that everything has to be in, so she lays out the inflatables before bringing out the power strip. It’s simple enough.

They both work in silence, well not really because Sam is singing Christmas songs. But the conversation has halted, and for that Quinn’s thankful enough.

When he’s done, he comes down and sets up the power strip. The lights are all working, which is good. One year there had been a dead bolt that messed up the entire string. Her dad got mad and threw them away. Quinn cried later, alone in her bedroom because she thought Christmas would be over. It wasn’t, and he bought new lights and set them up the next day. 

“We should do something fun,” Sam says, wiping his hands together to dust the snow off his gloves. Quinn is just finishing up inflating Frosty. “With New Directions. I mean, we’re all back together.”

Quinn just shrugs. “The person you should be telling is inside.”

“Well. I was trying to say that you need to have some fun.”

“Having a blast right now, Sam.” She’s moved onto the snow houses, and as bitchy as she’s trying to be – it doesn’t work when she’s prancing up and down to get some semblance of warmth.

“You ever sit on Santa’s lap?” he asks.

“Ew,” Quinn says, and then she follows with, “Yes.” Quinn starts to drape the lights around the village. “Sam, I had a childhood.” She just had to grow out of it fast. She had to throw away Lucy and be Quinn at some point because being Lucy wasn’t going to be respectable anymore. It never really was, at least not in school.

The Fabray’s had to be at the top when it mattered, and high school mattered. She traded sweaters for a cheerios uniform, she lost the glasses, she lost the weight, and she lost the nose. She gained everything that a normal teenage girl would want.

Sometimes Quinn was happy. Sometimes she even liked bullying other girls. It made her feel better.

Sometimes it did nothing for Quinn, and she just felt sick. She’d think of middle school. She’d think about how terrible it felt. But Quinn wasn’t going to deny that it felt better being at the top than being at the bottom – conscience aside.

Now she’s neither. She’s in some middle area where no one is going to mess with her, but no one is dying to be around her either. She wishes it had been like this from the start. While some of the things she once did and said felt good at the time, she does regret them.

But there are things she‘s missed, some things she still feels like she wants. Silly things. High school things. Like prepping for prom queen, and cheering, and if Quinn is being honest she’s getting tired of dying her roots.

But once she’s _that_ Quinn again, she’ll have all the expectations that came with it. Not just Rachel’s, but the entire schools and her mother’s. Whatever those expectations are now anyways.

“Then be a teenager,” Sam says. “I mean it, Quinn. School sucks, yeah, but being an adult sucks more. Compared to stripping, things right now are easy.”

Everything has finally inflated, and Quinn has no interesting in being anything or anywhere but inside. She doesn’t make a move to acknowledge what Sam’s said, stomping her boots against the welcoming mat and making her way straight inside.

Quinn doesn’t know if he’s right or wrong. Sam hasn’t been through what she has, she hasn’t been through what Sam has. If he’s right, Quinn guesses she’ll just have to deal with another regret. Somehow she sincerely doubts not doing _teenager_ things will be at the top of that list. 

Sam comes in behind her, shaking some of the excess snow off of his body. His hair is damp, Quinn can tell. She thinks the back of her head might be damp too.

“It smells good,” Sam says, rushing towards the kitchen.

Rachel’s voice echoes through the house as she talks Quinn’s mother’s head off about something.

“Is it done?” Sam asks.

“A few more minutes,” her mother says. “Rachel, I’m so glad you decided to come over,” she says, genuinely. It makes Quinn kinda happy that her mom likes Rachel.

“I’m happy I asked Quinn what she was doing today,” she quips back, looking up at Quinn with a bright smile. “I never pass on decorations. I’ve already done all of the decorations in my house for Hanukkah.”

“You decorate for Hanukkah? Cool,” Sam says.

“We still celebrate Christmas, but only in the capitalist way because my dad’s spoil me,” Rachel says. “Also I love Christmas music.”

Quinn freezes a bit at the mention of Rachel’s dads. Her father was never tolerant towards anyone who wasn’t a straight white man. She doesn’t really know how her mom feels about it. She doesn’t even know if her mom is completely comfortable with Rachel being Jewish.

“Oh, you should stop by our church sometime this month,” her mom says. Quinn can’t help the look of surprise on her face, and when her mother catches it she tries to play it neutral. “Ask Quinn, but the choir is amazing. They do a light show every year, too.” She smiles, and Rachel looks agreeable as well. “A lot of people from town come to that, not just the church.”

“It’s really cool,” Sam adds. “They do a big firework that looks like the baby Jesus.”

Quinn and her mother both grimace, but the oven dings before anything too awkward can happen.

“Thank God,” Sam says, running to the kitchen.

Rachel stands and runs after him. “They’re not ready!” she squeaks.

Then it’s just Quinn and her mother. The silence drops on both of them.

“Is everything done?” her mom asks, still smiling.

Quinn nods. Most of the conversation she has with her mother is stilted. Ever since Quinn got kicked out, really. It’s something that’s hard to get over. She doesn’t know how to talk to her now.

“Do you not care-” Quinn starts, and then closes her eyes to rephrase what she was saying. “It doesn’t bother you that Rachel is Jewish?”

She looks surprised for a moment, lifting her hands off her lap just a little and then curling them back towards her. “I think that faith is faith,” she says. “I know your…father had some things to say about it.” She clears her throat. “But I’ve always considered myself more open-minded.”

“Just not opened-mouthed,” Quinn says without thinking, but she doesn’t apologize. In the kitchen, Quinn can hear Rachel and Sam talking about the club. She can’t focus on the words they’re saying, though. Not when her mother looks like she’s just been slapped across the face.

Quinn watches the slow bob of her throat, and then her mother is nodding. “You’re right. I’m trying…I’m trying to work on it, Quinn.” When she looks up, Quinn can tell that she means it. It doesn’t mean she trusts it, though.

“What about her dads?” she asks next. She doesn’t need to clarify that she’s talking about Rachel again.

“Love the sinner, hate the sin,” she says, with a small smile.

Quinn feels like she’s going to be sick. She looks down and bites her lip so that she doesn’t let all her thoughts spill out. “Right,” she says. The worst part is that it hurts. She still hates how much she can be hurt by her mother, she hates the part of her that will always want her parents approval, she hates knowing that she will never get it.

“Quinnie,” the voice is so soft, Quinn jerks her head up. “Are you okay?”

She nods. “I’m fine,” and with that she turns towards the kitchen.

“Hey,” her mom says, stopping her again. “On Christmas Eve I want us to all feed the homeless with the church. I know you’re probably gonna want to do things with your frie-”

“I’ll go,” Quinn says. 

Her mother smiles. “Good. Thank you.”

* * *

They all end up going to Santa’s Village that weekend; even Puck who argued at first, but caved when Quinn agreed to go. The Christmas-themed park is about a two hour drive, which is why they elect to go in groups.

Sam wanted to ride with Mercedes, but Mercedes practically threw herself in a group with Tina, Mike, and Artie. Like, literally threw herself. When Sam asked, she jumped on Tina. 

Sam rides with them, leading to a packed car. Quinn sits in the back with Santana and Brittany, but only because she doesn’t want to sit by Puck, and he called shotgun. Things are still tense with Santana, but Puck has been relentless in trying to _woo_ Quinn ever since he heard the news about Shelby and Beth. He’s got this idea that Beth will want to find them if they’re some happy couple, that at some point she’ll realize she wants a perfect family. As if Quinn and Puck could ever make something that even closely resembles that. Not when Puck is sleeping with at least 5 women, and Quinn doesn't like men.

“Only Christmas movies I watch are Elf and the XXXmas special on Brazzers,” Puck says to Sam.

“I can’t watch Elf ever since I heard about the elves not being allowed to onionize,” Brittany says. “It’s so sad.”

Quinn looks at Brittany, eyebrows scrunched together. “Unionize?” she asks.

Brittany shakes her head. “No. Like they’re not allowed to eat onions. Right, Santana?”

Santana sits up straight. “That was an onion _article_, babe.”

“Exactly,” Brittany says, smiling.

Santana puts her hand on Brittany’s thigh and rubs it for a moment. “Exactly,” she agrees. It’s nauseating, and yet Quinn has this feeling sinking inside of her stomach. She thinks of Rachel for a second, and then thinks of everything that isn’t Rachel as she takes in a breath.

“What about you, Quinn?” Sam asks.

Quinn turns her head forward so that she can see Sam’s profile. “What about what?”

“Favorite Christmas movie?”

She forgot that they were having this conversation. “The Year Without Santa Clause,” she says with a small shrug. She used to watch it once a year because she liked the Miser Bros.

“Isn’t that the one where Santa ghosts the entire world?” Santana asks. “Fitting.”

Quinn clenches her jaw, and does the tiniest roll of her eyes. She doesn’t respond because she doesn’t want anyone else knowing her after school plans.

“Mine is Avatar,” Sam says.

“That’s not a Christmas movie,” Quinn says.

“It’s an every day movie.”

“Bad Santa,” Santana says.

Puck turns his head back towards the passenger seat. “Bad Santa isn’t a Christmas movie. It’s too funny.”

“It literally has Santa in the title, moron,” Santana says, and Quinn goes back to looking out of the window.

* * *

Santa’s village is for kids. Little kids. There are very few people besides parents that are taller than Quinn’s waist.

Rachel studies a map of the small theme park and tries to figure out where they should all go. Finn looks at it from over her shoulder, but his eyes are glazed over.

“The elf workshop is…” she chews on her lip and squints, and then holds out her arm to the left. “North West.”

“Looking for some long lost relatives?” Santana asks as Brittany is muttering, “We have to free them.”

Rachel rolls her eyes and folds up the map. “It’s where the ice skating is.”

Finn’s eyes widen. “Ice skating?” he laughs a little. “Is that a good idea?”

Rachel puts her hand on his chest. “Don’t worry,” she says, “you can hold onto me.”

Quinn catches Sam looking at her, and wants to slap him. She’s gotten use to this, it isn’t exactly something she can avoid when Rachel sits on Finn’s lap almost every day in glee. Quinn thinks of herself as some sort of expert when it comes to schooling her facial expressions.

“Uh, guys,” Artie says, looking down at his chair. “Maybe we should all split up.”

“No,” Rachel, and oddly enough, Sam say at the same time.

“We should do something together,” Rachel says. That’s how they end up at the cookie decorating station. They’re the only table that’s full of people older than 10.

Quinn looks down at her cookie. It’s shaped like an angel, but she isn’t exactly sure how to decorate it. Rachel and Finn make are making a tiny family. Sam is smothering his cookie in blue icing, probably so that it imitates something from Avatar. Puck is…Quinn _thinks_ he’s drawn a dick on it, but she can’t tell because she’s sitting at the opposite end of the table.

“What are you gonna make?” Mercedes asks.

Quinn looks over to see that Mercedes' reindeer-shaped cookie is also blank. “I don’t know,” she says, leaning over towards the black icing. She squeezes it onto the face of the angel so that it has two eyes. “This, I guess.”

Mercedes gives a short laugh. “Come on, Quinn. At least give her a smile.”

Quinn obliges and draws a black curve to make a mouth. “There,” she says, turning to look at Mercedes. “What are you going to make?”

Mercedes takes the icing and draws an eye on the reindeer, and then a little smile. “There.” They both share a quick laugh. “I don’t like the taste of decorative icing. It’s too bitter.”

Quinn puts a small dab of black icing on her finger and licks it. She scrunches up her nose. “It taste like medicine.”

“It’s nasty,” she says, and then bites the head off the reindeer. Quinn does the same to the angel. “My mama makes this cake with butter cream icing that’s so good. I think she’s gonna bring it to the food drive on Christmas Eve. You going?”

Quinn nods as she chews. The cookie isn’t that good, very hard. “Yeah, with Sam and my mom.”

“Try not to look so happy,” Mercedes says, not unkindly. “You still believe?” she asks.

Quinn pokes her tongue against the inside of her cheek and gets more icing colors. “Yeah,” she says, though she isn’t sure if she’s being honest or not. She’s thought about it, and there is a part of her that can’t _not_ believe. Then there’s the other part that thinks of who she is, and what she wants, and what so many other Christians would say. She starts to put random patterns on the cookie, if only to busy her hands.

She feels Mercedes hand on her shoulder and turns to look up. “I don’t know what exactly you’ve been going through, but God loves you,” Mercedes says.

Quinn looks around, and sees that every one else is engrossed with decorating. Quinn doesn’t know if she believes that, but it’s nice to hear nonetheless. “Thanks,” she says.

Sam meets her eyes from the end of the table, he then looks over towards Mercedes. Mercedes turns her head.

“What are you gonna do about that?” Quinn asks, looking back at the cookie. It's hideous.

“I have a boyfriend,” Mercedes says. It isn’t an answer, but Quinn doesn’t push because she gets it.

“Uh, Quinn,” Artie says from across the table, and now every one is looking at the mess that is her cookie.

22 days until Christmas.

* * *

It’s 9 days until Christmas.

Quinn is at the flea market of all places because there was absolutely nothing at the mall. Well, nothing that would interest the person she’s shopping for. It’s actually completely stupid that she’s shopping for Rachel, but Rachel got her a birthday gift and she feels obliged to return the favor.

She’s looking through old records when she hears her name being called. She turns her head, coming face to face with the Mack. She’s alone, staring up at Quinn with her hands on her hips.

“Hey,” Quinn says. She’s not in the mood for this.

“Haven’t seen you around lately.”

“Well. I quit smoking, so…” she pops her lips and shakes her head, slowly trying to turn her body away.

“You’re not a skank anymore, are you?”

Quinn stops, and turns to face her fully once again. “No,” she says with a breath.

The Mack lifts her hands . “Good for you,” she says, and she’s not smiling but she isn’t frowning either. “You’ve got…” she trails off, “a future, Quinn.”

This is awkward. They were never that close, but they had their moments. They’d talk about their respective pregnancies. They were friend adjacent. “Thanks,” Quinn says, and then for the sake of ending the conversation she asks, “So why are you here?”

“Shopping. Gotta get some things for Alexander.”

Her son. Quinn nods. “Alright. Well…I’ll see you around.”

The Mack rolls her eyes. “No you won’t,” she says, turning around.

Quinn aimlessly walks away after that, somehow ending up in a used electronics shop. That’s when she sees what she’s been looking for all day.

* * *

7 days before Christmas, which just happens to be Rachel’s birthday, which is 5 days before Hanukkah. Quinn’s thought about this a lot, and how all of it falls within a weeks span.

**Quinn:** _outside_

**Rachel:** _?_

Quinn’s only been here once, during a party sophomore year. She saved the address though, just in case. The logic behind this was so she wouldn’t have to ask Rachel for her address again. If Rachel moved, she would have said something because Rachel is the kind of person who says something about everything.

**Quinn:** _im outside_

**Quinn:** _ hurry its cold_

Quinn shifts her weight between her feet, holding a wrapped box in her gloved hand, with her other hand tucked into the pocket of her coat. She’s relieved to see the door open seconds later.

Rachel walks towards her quickly, the confusion evident on her face. “Quinn, not that I’m not happy to see you, but-”

Quinn shoves the box forward, and musters a smile that she hopes doesn’t look pained. “Happy birthday,” she says.

Rachel does this little jump, prance thing and takes it. She shakes it to her ear as Quinn bristles. “You didn’t have to,” Rachel says.

“Oh, then I’ll take it back,” Quinn says.

Rachel steps back with it. “I was lying, Quinn. You absolutely had to. Whatever is in this box is mine now,” she says, eyes bright and her lips still tilted up into a smile that makes Quinn’s heart do a thing that it shouldn’t be doing. Rachel tears the pink wrapping paper off quickly despite her hands trembling from the cold.

It’s a small, brown box taped everywhere, and when Rachel looks up, Quinn is ready with a Swiss army knife.

“From your skank days?” Rachel questions, fiddling with it and nearly stabbing herself twice in the process.

“You’re gonna kill yourself, here.” Quinn puts her hands over Rachel’s, and guides her hand towards the knife. She can’t do it herself because of the gloves, but she works with Rachel’s hand until the tape is broken. 

“You’re hands are warm,” Rachel says, and then removes the flaps from the box. Her face goes from confused, to surprised, to absolutely elated.

“There’s film at the bottom.” She got it from some guy who sold fixed up antique electronics, then made him test it to make sure it worked.

Rachel holds it clumsily in her hands, fumbling with the camera. A Polaroid that Quinn thinks must be from the 80’s. She likes the idea of being able to have a physical copy of a picture right away.

“I love it,” she squeals, getting closer to Quinn, but then pausing. Quinn nods and Rachel hugs her, the camera poking her back a little. “How do I use it?” she says pulling away. Quinn takes off her gloves and shows her the basics before turning and facing Rachel with it.

“Say cheese,” Quinn says.

“Vegan cheese.” She smiles. “My turn.” Rachel reaches forward and grabs the camera after Quinn takes the picture out. “Big smile. Come on, Quinn.”

Quinn gives a sardonic grin which must be enough because then she sees the flash of the camera. Rachel takes it, her teeth flashing as bright white. “Thank you,” she says, looking down at the picture. Her eyes come up to meet Quinn’s.

“I just thought you could document senior year with it, if you wanted,” Quinn says.

“I’m going to make so many scrapbooks.” Rachel laughs and then sniffles. She’s only wearing a sweater and a jacket, and while it’s not snowing, it’s still freezing. “Do you want to come inside?” she asks. “It’s just my dads and Finn - we were gonna have cake soon.”

Quinn pretends to think about it, and then says, “I actually promised I’d help Sam with wrapping his Christmas presents.” It’s not a lie. He has stuff that needs to be wrapped for his family, and is probably the worst wrapper Quinn has ever seen. “I’ll see you later, though.”

“Sometime during winter break?” Rachel questions.

Quinn starts to walk away. “Yeah. Just text me.”

* * *

3 more days until Christmas

**Quinn:** _Happy Hanukkah_

* * *

And then it’s Christmas day.

**Rachel:** _Merry Christmas_

Rachel sends an attached picture of the photo she took of Quinn, and Quinn idly thinks about how happy she looks.

Rachel makes her happy. 


	10. girls always act sexy at sleepovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: alcohol and marijuana use

“Military?” Rachel asks, repeating Finn’s words. This isn’t what she wanted to hear when Finn told her he was finally figuring out what he wanted to do after high school.

“Army, specifically,” he says, smiling like he’s talking about getting his flu shot. 

Rachel tries to hold her tongue because at least Finn’s thinking about his future. But at the same time- “Finn this isn’t you talking about your future, this is you talking about the fastest way to end it.” She winces, her mouth staying open as she tries to find a way to rectify what she’s just said. Finn clenches his jaw and breaks his gaze with Rachel. “Finn - I’m sorry, I just-”

“No. You said how you feel. You always say just how you feel.” He wipes his mouth with the napkin and calls for the check.

“Finn, I won’t deny that I’m worried, and I think it’s a terrible idea.”

“Well, Rachel, not everything is about you!” he says, loud enough to garner the attention of the nearby tables. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know, Finn. As you said, not everything is about me.” Rachel slinks back in her seat.

“That’s a lie,” he says with a short scoff. “You want me to go to New York and just, like, be there.You want me to be a cheerleader.” 

The waitress takes his card without Finn even noticing her presence. Rachel feels her eyes starting to sting with tears, and tries to stave them off for when she’s not surrounded by interested patrons. “You’re not giving me much to work with, Finn.”

He looks at her with that disappointed glare that always makes Rachel feel like she’s kicked a puppy. “This is what he would have wanted me to do,” Finn says, and Rachel knows that he’s talking about his father.

A ghost. A man he never actually got to know. Rachel understands him, but understanding and being okay with it are two separate things, and Rachel doesn’t think she’ll ever be _okay_ with it.

He isn’t wrong in thinking that Rachel wants him to come with her. She wants him to find something for himself, of course, but with her. And maybe that’s incredibly selfish, Rachel won’t deny that. It’s the familiarity and comfort that she feels around him. It’s everything they’ve went through together. It’s scary to think of that ending.

“Can I ask you to think about it?” Rachel asks quietly.

Finn takes his card back from the waitress, making a point not to sit down again. “Let’s just…talk later.”

* * *

Every once in a while Rachel tries to imagine herself as someone else, for varying reasons. She loves who she is, but sometimes she thinks about the times where she's unsure of herself. 

She thinks about what it would be like to be prettier (in a conventional sense). To be demure, to have a smaller nose maybe, to have bigger breast, to look like Jessica Rabbit. She also thinks about what it would be like to not have the things that she has now. What if she opened her mouth one day and realized she didn’t have talent - what would she do? Besides cry.

Rachel has copiously thought about her future, to the point of mapping out the tiniest details no normal person would think of. For instance, in her dorm that she’ll have when she gets to NYADA; she’ll have a board on the refrigerator where she’ll write down daily advice. Her and Kurt will write out things on the board before bed, and when they wake up it’ll be the first thing that they read. It’ll say things like:_** Not trying is worse than possible rejection.**_

They’ll fight as roommates, but only in the first few months; and then Kurt and Rachel will get used to each other’s company. Finn will be…Finn will be there. She doesn’t know if they’ll live together - but in her planned future he _is_ there. He’ll sit in the front row at her first performance, and he’ll buy her 13 red roses. After the show, people will come up to them and say that they’re a beautiful couple.

Quinn will be there too. She’ll tell Rachel about how amazing she was, and Rachel will look at her and think about how long it took them to get there. She’ll hug Quinn without asking, and it will feel so incredibly right that it’s not even a big deal. Quinn will hug her back, hand resting on the small of Rachel’s back. Quinn will be something amazing too, and Rachel won’t feel jealous in the slightest bit. It’ll make her happy. She’ll be so incredibly happy.

All of them will take a picture together. And—

“What if we don’t make it,” Kurt asks. They’re lying side by side on Rachel’s bed.

Acceptance season is in full force, which means so is rejection season. Rachel doesn’t allow herself to think about rejection, though. Not now. Not when she’s worked so hard. “We’re going to,” Rachel says, turning her body to face Kurt.

“Are you ever scared?” he asks. “Of being stuck here, or not making it into NYADA, or…” he trails off and sighs.

“I’m scared sometimes,” she admits. She worries her lip for a few seconds. “Having you helps. And Finn, and Quinn, and everyone in New Directions. We’ve all built this family…”

Kurt smiles at her and lifts his hand to grab hers, he tangles there pinkies together. “You’ll make it,” he says.

“So will you, Kurt. We’re going together,” she says.

“It’s different for me,” he says. “I’ve just been thinking about it. I’ll never be a leading man - those roles are for people like Blaine, and Finn and-”

“Hey,” Rachel says, with the tiniest bit of guilt. She remembers laughing when he attempted to audition as Romeo. “People are going to see how amazing you are and _make_ leading roles for you, Kurt. I mean you’re one of the few people who have made me feel threatened in terms of vocal capability. That’s no easy feat.”

“And what about when I can’t go anywhere without seeing the name: _Rachel Berry_ in big, italic font,” he says laughing.

“How will we deal with the fame?” Rachel comments, dramatically putting her forearm over her eyes. “I already have an outfit planned to disguise myself when I go the the airport.”

“I hope it doesn’t involve argyle.”

“Only the pants,” Rachel says.

“That better be a joke,” Kurt says, and then rolls over so that he’s lying on his stomach. “We need a girls night.”

Rachel follows suit. “Aren’t we doing that right now?”

“No. Like a sleepover with all the girls.”

Thus, an idea is born.

* * *

It ends up being at Mercedes house because her living room is the second biggest after Quinn’s, and Mercedes doesn’t want to sleep over at Quinn’s. If Rachel had to guess she’d say the reason was Sam Evans.

Rachel is leaning into Kurt’s side with Quinn on the other side of her as they all lean up against the couch. Boxes of pizza are scattered around the living room, as well as popcorn and Oreos. The popcorn isn’t vegan, but the Oreos are.

She turns her head when she spots Quinn looking at her, and takes a large gulp of water to swallow the cookie down. “What?”

“You just ate it whole,” Quinn says.

Rachel blinks a few times and then looks around to see a few eyes are on her. “Normally I’m not opposed to people staring at me, but there isn’t any music playing, and I’m not singing.”

“Yeah, why are we all staring at Rachel?” Brittany asks, leaning closer to see what she’s missed. “Elle is about to confess to the murder.”

Mercedes now turns to look at Brittany. “She’s a lawyer. She’s trying to find out who the killer is.”

“That’s what she wants you to think.”

“That is a bad perm job,” Kurt mutters, looking back towards the screen. “Rachel promise me you’ll never get a perm.” She has permed her hair before, and it did not result in the desired effect. She winces and thinks about the comb she had to force through her hair. “Or a bob,” he adds.

“I think I could look good with a bob,” Rachel says, taking another Oreo.

“Don’t,” Quinn says just before Rachel eats the cookie.

“She’s got a freakishly big mouth, Quinn. It’s not her fault,” Santana says absent-mindedly.

Her mouth isn’t that big. She almost says something, but then remembers that she’s chewing. “My mouth is not that big,” she finally says after swallowing. “And besides, it helps with my enunciation. One day people will pay to see this mouth.”

The room goes silent save for the background of the TV.

Tina doubles over, as Santana says, “Too easy,” and laughs as well. Rachel thinks about her words and blushes, folding her arms over one another to make it clear that she’s pouting.

Kurt puts his hand on her shoulder. “We all know what you meant, sweetie.”

Rachel reaches for the Oreos again, but Quinn stops her. Rachel looks down at the hand resting atop her own.

“You’re supposed to pull them apart,” Quinn says.

“Actually you’re supposed to dunk them,” Tina says, “In milk usually, but sometimes hummus.”

“You had me at the first part,” Mercedes says, curling her lip up at the idea of hummus and Oreos. Rachel agrees that it does sound utterly disgusting, despite her love of both hummus and Oreos.

“No, look,” Quinn says, pulling the two cookies apart. She licks the icing off, which garners a snicker from Santana.

“Practicing for something?” Santana says, and then flinches when Quinn throws the other half of the cookie towards her. Santana shoots up, and Brittany grabs the cookie and eats it before it can fall to the floor. “Just because we’re at a sleepover doesn’t mean I won’t cut a bitch.”

Rachel is about to say something to attempt to ease the random tension, but then the doorbell rings.

“Did we order more pizza?” Tina asks.

“No…” Mercedes says. She pauses the movie even though they haven’t been watching it for the past 30 minutes. “I’ll check.”

“I’ll go with you,” Quinn says.

“Oh. Me too,” Rachel says. “If it’s a burglar, I’m the loudest screamer in this house.”

“Yes because most burglars ring the doorbell,” Santana deadpans.

“It could be a friendly burglar, like Robin Hood,” Brittany says as the doorbell rings again.

Rachel follows Mercedes and Quinn to the door. Even if it isn’t a burglar, safety is better in numbers. Rachel has vivid recollections of dog poop being set aflame on her doorstep her freshman and Sophomore year of high school. It turned out to be Puck, but still - if her dads hadn’t been there to help, the house might have caught on fire because Rachel was too busy screaming and crying at the stench.

Mercedes opens the door, and to Rachel’s surprise - it’s Finn.

Puck, Sam, Mike, Blaine, Artie are all behind him.

“Finn?”

“Rachel…” he says, eyes flitting around the inside of Mercedes house. He doesn’t look at Rachel directly.

“Sam?” Quinn then questions, though her tone is far more annoyed than Rachel’s.

“What are you guys doing here?” Mercedes asks.

“We just. Um,” Finn laughs under his breath.

“Dude you’re so lame,” Puck says, pushing him backwards. He’s holding a tray of brownies, and Mercedes takes them before he says, “Heard you guys were having a party.”

“We’re not. My parents are asleep upstairs.”

“Thought you ladies might want some company,” Puck says, wiggling his eyebrows. He tries to slide his foot through the doorway, but Mercedes steps on it. “Ow.”

“What are you guys really doing here,” Quinn then says.

Rachel looks at Quinn and copies her stance, crossing her arms over one another as she narrows her eyes. “Yes, Finn. Please explain.”

Finn laughs again, and scratches the back of his neck. “Uh. Puck forced me.”

_“Dude?”_

“Blaine?” Rachel asks because he looks the most nervous.

“I was just happy to be invited,” he says, smiling as Puck rolls his eyes.

“_Come on._ Girls always act sexy at sleepovers, just let us in for like…an hour,” Puck asks.

Mercedes shuts the door in their faces.

“I hate men,” Quinn mutters.

Rachel is also disappointed in Finn. She’d expect this from Puck (and maybe Artie), but not the rest of them. Plus, Finn and her have barely spoken since their little conversation about the future.

And he’s been especially weird since Mr. Schue announced his engagement to Ms. Pillsbury. She isn’t exactly sure why because while she’s certainly happy for Mr. Schue and can’t wait to attend the wedding, it doesn’t really have much to do with their current issue of the future. Rachel looks at the door one final time before walking back with Mercedes and Quinn.

“You okay?” Quinn asks.

“Hm? Yeah,” Rachel says, now smiling a little at Quinn’s concern.

“We got a gift from the boys,” Mercedes says as they enter the living room.

“Wouldn’t trust those,” Quinn says.

Rachel stares at the brownies. Apart from looking a little dry they seem fine. “Why?

“Santana,” Quinn says. “Smell these.”

Santana gives her a look, but obliges. She crinkles her nose at the scent. “They’re loaded,” she says to Quinn. “Puck?”

“Who else?”

“I’m lost,” Tina says.

“They’re laced,” Quinn says with a shrug. “Pot.” She goes back to her seat.

Rachel’s eyebrows shoot to her hairline. “As in marijuana?”

“As in ceramics. What do you think?” Santana says, rummaging through her bag. “Me thinks that we could turn this into a real party.” She flashes a bottle of Jose Cuervo towards them.

“No. My parents are still upstairs. They’ll kill me if-”

“You’re 18 right?” Santana says, opening the bottle. Rachel can smell it despite being several feet away. 

“I…I don’t think that’s the issue,” Tina says.

Rachel, being the natural-born leader that she is, decides this is the time to take control of the situation. “Now, Santana, this is supposed to be a bonding experience. I don’t think tarnishing that with alcohol and illegal substances is a good idea,” she says eloquently. Kurt stands behind her in support.

“It could be fun,” he then says. _Traitor._

“It could also be incredibly bad,” Quinn offers, looking up at Rachel from her spot on the floor. Finally. Someone with sense. She might as well be Rachel’s white knight with the way everyone in the room is staring at her.

“I _have_ always wanted to try weed...” Tina says.

“Not that great,” Quinn says, once again proving herself the most capable (next to Rachel).

Brittany is still looking at the TV. “Where’d the movie go? The two lady lawyers were gonna kiss.”

Santana sighs and says, “Come on, we’ll drink light.” She settles closer to Quinn now, holding the bottle at her side. “Otherwise we might start crying and sharing our innermost secrets and fears about our future.” She grins when Quinn rolls her eyes.

“That’s exactly what we should be doing,” Rachel says, combating Santana’s point. That was basically the point of the sleepover, after all. Nothing says bonding like crying and sharing secrets in a circle.

Quinn grabs the bottle and takes a sip out of it.

_Et tu, Quinn._

“We have to stay quiet,” Mercedes says as she opens up the brownies.

The last time Rachel was coerced into doing something like this it had been by Puck, and the end result was Rachel’s head in a toilet all the next day. She won’t be so easily swayed again.

“Quinn?” she asks helplessly.

Quinn stares at her for a moment and then offers a sheepish smile. “It could be fun.”

Rachel huffs and slides down so she’s sitting again. She’s outnumbered.

“Truth or dare?” Santana asks, sitting down.

They end up playing some combination of spin the bottle except with truth or dare instead of kissing. If the person doesn’t do the dare or answer the question, they have to drink. If they do answer the question or do the dare, the spinner has to drink.

If Rachel wasn’t too busy pouting, she would be excited. She looks at the clock and makes the decision that she’ll only pout for two more minutes to get her point across.

She’s got 30 more seconds of frowning when Santana spins the bottle and it faces towards her. She looks up at a smirking Santana, and her frown turns more worried than angry.

“Truth or dare?” she asks.

Rachel swallows and fidgets with the sleeve of her pajama top. “Dare,” she says. If it was anyone else she’d say truth, but Santana has a penchant for asking the most perverse questions possible, and Rachel would rather not discuss her fledgling sex life.

“Eat a brownie,” she says.

Rachel leans forward for the bottle.

“Before you do that,” Santana says, “remember that you’ll most likely be consuming a heavy amount of alcohol. If I were you, I wouldn’t add to that,” she says with a shrug.

Rachel puts the bottle down. This is just like those videos they showed her in 5th grade about peer pressure.

“You don’t have to do anything, Rachel,” Quinn says, glaring at Santana.

Everyone else has eaten a brownie, but Rachel (even Kurt, although he was hesitant). Rachel realizes that they all seem perfectly fine. This isn’t the way she wanted this sleepover to turn out, but in hindsight it could be a good thing. This is a perfect anecdote for her future biography.

“Quinn’s right,” Kurt says.

But Rachel is only partly listening. She feels more confident now when she reaches for the brownies, even going as far as to smile at Santana.

Santana snorts. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

She only eats a little, partly because she knows they’re not vegan. She slips up every once in a while, and sometimes on accident like that time Finn made her steak and she thought it was a meat substitute. It tastes awful. Puck _clearly _needs to work on his culinary skills.

It’s Quinn’s turn next, and the bottle lands on Santana. Quinn smiles a little too sweetly as she sits up. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth,” Santana says.

“Scared?” Quinn asks with a small smirk

Santana scoffs. “Only of that dye job.”

“How much was your breast augmentation?” Quinn asks.

Santana rolls her eyes and sits back. “4,578.”

Quinn takes a shot and passes the bottle to Rachel. She claps her hands together quickly before making a move to spin. It lands on Santana.

Santana mutters something in Spanish under her breath, and then looks up. “You bitches are plotting against me.”

Rachel smiles so hard she thinks her face might split in two. “What are your future aspirations?” she asks.

“You didn’t say Truth or Dare,” Santana says.

“Oh. Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to tell me your future aspirations.” Rachel isn’t completely ready to give up on the sharing and crying part of the sleepover.

Santana rolls her eyes. “That’s not how it works, but I’m going to be a lawyer. Like Robert Kardashian but less bloated and not, like, completely evil, I guess.”

“You’re way sexier, babe.” Santana smiles and looks back at Brittany.

Rachel smiles even harder, her face actually hurts a bit. “I’m sure you’ll be a great lawyer. I’ve always wanted to play a lawyer in-”

“Drink, dwarf.”

Rachel looks at the bottle nervously before bringing it to her mouth. She sucks in a breath through her nose and takes a gulp, feeling the burn press through her chest and stomach. She coughs. “That’s awful,” she says, passing the bottle to Kurt. When she looks back down she feels a slight fuzziness that almost makes her fall forward.

Quinn takes hold of her arm, laughing under her breath. “Be careful.”

Rachel nods and takes her hand, bringing it down to rest between them. She likes how warm Quinn is, likes how soft her hand is.

“How far have you gotten with Shane?” Kurt asks. Mercedes takes a shot. “Scandalous,” he says with a grin.

Tina spins, landing on Kurt. When he says truth she asks, “What’s your favorite category of porn.”

“I don’t watch porn,” he says. Rachel knows that’s a lie.

Santana bristles. “Everyone watches porn.”

Rachel looks up at Quinn, curious for a reaction. Quinn doesn’t give one. “I’ve watched porn,” Rachel says, actually kind of blurts it. Quinn’s eyes widen before she quickly looks away.

Kurt is also looking away, his eyes strangely focused on the bottle of Tequila. He drinks.

Next round Mercedes asks Brittany the most embarrassing thing she’s ever been caught doing. Brittany tells her that it’s getting caught stealing chewed gum that was stuck on a water fountain. Strangely enough, she wasn't embarrassed because it was chewed gum, but because she’d also gotten a small portion stuck in her hair and had bangs for the first quarter of Freshman year.

Another spin and Brittany is daring Kurt to swap clothes with her. He drinks.

The game continues easily enough, and Rachel is three small shots in when Santana spins the bottle and the neck faces her. “Truth or dare?”

Rachel giggles a little as she leans forward. She’s drunk now, but not completely wasted - she will be soon though if this continues. She doesn’t think the brownie is working, but then again she regards that she might just not notice the effects. “Dare,” she chirps, and then hiccups. She leans closer against Quinn as her head lulls back. Quinn shoots her a quick smile.

“Okay, Berry,” Santana says smiling. Rachel smiles back at her despite not understanding why Santana is so delighted. She smiles at everyone because they’re all her friends and she loves them so much. “I dare you to kiss Quinn.”

Rachel leans back, and then forward, and then back again to steady her balance.

“Wait that’s against the rules, that involves another person,” Quinn says.

Rachel turns her head to Kurt, trying not to focus on how the entire room shifts with the fast movement. “Is that against the rules?” she asks, her words running into each other as she speaks.

His eyebrows furrow, and then he laughs. “I have no idea.”

“Quinn’s right you can’t just be running over people… and… and taking over things, Santana,” Mercedes says, leaning forward and squinting in an attempt to glare. Rachel doesn’t understand the sudden rush of anger.

“You gonna do something about it?” Santana asks.

“Wait wait wait wait wait,” Rachel says, holding her hands out. _“Wait_. This is actually so easy. It’s so easy.” She smiles and looks at Quinn.

“Rachel?” Quinn asks.

Rachel leans closer and places her hands on both sides of Quinn’s face.”Ready? Because I don’t think I can-” she hiccups and gives a short snort of laughter. “I don’t think I can drink anymore.”

“I’m so excited,” Brittany mutters, and Rachel catches Tina nod in the corner of her eye.

It’s the easiest dare yet, Rachel thinks. But Quinn is giving her this strange glassy-eyed look, eyebrows pulled together slightly. She looks over Quinn’s face completely. The gentle dip of her mouth the red blush that colors her skin. Her lips are so pink. Rachel completely understands why every boy in this school would have killed to date her. 

Rachel caresses her cheek with her thumb, and whispers, “Is this okay?” 

Quinn sets her jaw and forces a smile that sobers Rachel up just a little. When she leans in and can feel the heat coming from Quinn’s breath, smell the fainest scent of tequila mixed with something sweet; she stops. She kisses the corner of Quinn’s mouth because it doesn’t feel right actually kissing her. Something pulls tight in Rachel’s chest at the idea, and it’s not entirely painful but it’s something that she shouldn’t feel. Something familiar that feels like want, but it can’t be that.

Rachel wonders if the heat tinting her cheeks is from more than just the alcohol.

Quinn’s eyes are wide open still, lips gently parted. She sits back and takes the bottle after Santana drinks.

“That was totally lame, but kind of hot,” Brittany says.

The game ends when everyone has had three shots, and then they move onto Uno. Santana is shuffling when Tina notes, “I think those were just regular brownies.”

“Give it about,” Quinn looks at her phone, “20 more minutes.”

* * *

“Do you ever think…” Tina starts, and then stops. She narrows her eyes in on the ceiling.

“No,” Brittany answers. “Sometimes I picture myself as I’m walking down the hallway, and I can see what it’s like to look at me, and I get really jealous of all the people who get to watch me all day.”

Rachel gasps. Her cheek is resting against a blanket, and she’s been focused on Quinn’s hair for the past ten minutes. It’s so pink. It’s like a candy. “I do that all the time,” she says, reaching out to touch a strand. "Is your hair vegan?"

Quinn turns her head and smiles. “What are you doing to me?”

Rachel giggles, coming in closer. She places a lock of Quinn's hair over her lip. "I have a beard."

"The jokes write themselves," Santana mutters. 

Quinn shakes her head and touches the placed hair above Rachel's lip. "That's a mustache." 

Tina sighs. “I forgot what I was saying.”

* * *

The tension with Finn gradually dissipates, though the conversation about their future is put on a partial hold. 

For the most part, everything is back to normal.

And then Finn proposes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the most part it is NOT canon compliant; certain things/choices are going to differ a lot from the show especially after this point. thank you for reviewing/leaving kudos/reading!


	11. asshole

Quinn doesn’t usually check the mail, but as of late she’s gotten into the habit. She has applied to three schools in total. Any day now the acceptance and rejection letters will be mailed out. She hasn’t told her mom about the schools, and doesn’t want her mother to be the first one to see the letters - so for the past three weeks she’s made a point to check herself.

She’s thought about her future a lot, but can’t completely envision it. She knows that she wants to go to Yale, but doesn’t know what will happen. She’ll meet new people, maybe she’ll even be happy because she won’t be Quinn Fabray of Lima, Ohio.

When she opens the mailbox and sees the navy Yale emblem, her hand freezes. She’s applied to NYU and UCLA as well, but neither really calls out to her the way Yale does; though she does like the idea of living somewhere big where she can fade in and out as she pleases. Still, as Quinn looks down at the letter she can’t help but think about how she’ll be upset if there’s a rejection inside. She’ll be really fucking upset.

She grabs the letter, and thinks about texting Rachel before deciding against it. She wants to do this alone, rejection or acceptance.

She grabs the letter and hurries to her room, and then paces around for a few moments. Quinn folds the tip of the letter between her fingers, and then straightens it out. Someone has already made a decision, someone mailed out this letter, and Quinn can’t change the results no matter how much she might want to. It’s that lack of control that makes her fingers twitch, and if this had happened months ago there might be an ugly, little hole in the wall.

At one point Quinn never thought she’d leave Lima. She would marry Finn, or someone Finn adjacent. She wouldn’t go to college, but instead take classes in Real Estate. She’d be great at Real Estate, and her face would be plastered all over the benches and bus stops of Lima. She’d take a break once she had her first child - a boy, and then she’d have another break after her second child, a girl. She might not be happy, but she wouldn’t be terribly sad. She’d be alive and pretty and obedient.

Quinn thinks about that now and feels like she might be sick. She goes to her nightstand and takes out one lollipop. It’s pink, and reminds Quinn of Rachel’s mouth in a way that distracts her from the future that rests within her hands.

Quinn puts it in her mouth and rolls her tongue around it. It’s smooth and sweet and brings her a sliver of comfort. She exhales and opens the letter, pressing her thumb up and under the paper carefully.

** _Dear Lucy,_ **

It starts, and Quinn forces herself not to look any lower as her breaths increase.

** _Welcome to Yale college._ **

She drops the letter and smiles around the candy pressed against her tongue. She’s going to Yale. Quinn Fabray is going to Yale. Nothing else matters but that, she tells herself despite thinking about how badly she wants to tell Rachel. She wants to tell the whole damn world for a moment, but the urge is fleeting.

No one else even knows she applied to Yale because Quinn had been so afraid of breaking the news if she got rejected. She didn’t want anyone to pity her; but the need to share with Rachel had outweighed the possibility for just a moment. If only because Rachel’s naivety is so infectious at times it makes her feel like she can do anything.

She picks up the letter and reads it again, fully this time.

“I’m going to Yale,” she says out loud, and then laughs so much that her stomach actually hurts. She still has no idea what exactly she’s going to do, but she’s going to be at Yale. Freaking_ Yale._

She’s proud of herself. Quinn can’t remember the last time she was _this_ proud of herself, she can’t remember feeling this _good_ about herself. She holds the letter close to her body and reaches for her phone.

She doesn’t text Rachel, she doesn’t call her either. Instead she simply stares at the name. She wants to see Rachel’s face when she breaks the news because she thinks maybe she deserves one of those smiles that Rachel is always giving her. The one that makes her heart beat a little faster, and makes her feel like she’s falling and floating at the same time.

Sam knocks on her door, and she answers it within seconds. Her face hurts a little from smiling, and even looking at the dumb expression on Sam’s face doesn’t make it fade away.

“Whats up?” she asks.

“What’s up with you?” he says back, grinning at her. “Winning lotto ticket?”

Quinn looks around a bit, and then says, “Close. But I’ll explain tomorrow.”

He does a quick raise of his eyebrows. “Cool,” he says. “Can I borrow your car.”

“Yeah,” she says.

His eyes dart towards the lollipop in her hand. “Can I have one?”

“No.” She shuts the door.

* * *

Quinn doesn't move at the sound of the bell, still looking at herself in the bathroom mirror. She's gonna have to give up the pink hair and nose ring - not that Quinn really minds. Her roots are starting to show again, and she's getting sick of the mess that comes with constantly touching them up. She runs a hand through her hair, messing it up a little to cover the streaks of blonde that show.

At the sound of the bathroom door, Quinn turns her head. It's Rachel. "Hey," Quinn says, smiling at first. It fades when she sees Rachel's wide-eyed panic. 

"I need your advice," Rachel says, adding, "About an adult problem."

_Shit._ Quinn freezes, dread filling her momentarily. She recognizes that panic. "Holy crap, are you pregnant?"

"No." Quinn lets out a sigh of relief as Rachel continues, "Look, I'm coming to you as a friend and because I also think that you're the only person that'll give me a straightforward and a thoughtful answer about this."

Quinn nods. "You're right. I'm sorry." 

"Okay. Well, um. Finn asked me to marry him."

Quinn freezes once again. This isn't as bad as pregnancy, but, "What did you say?"

"I said I-I needed to think about it."

That's good. It's absolutely insane, but it's good that Rachel didn't say yes. It's something. "Well, you can't," Quinn says, clipped.

"Why?" she asks. "I mean, plenty of people get married at our age. And I mean, I know that he and I haven't lived together or anything, but, you know - I love him." She pauses and looks away. Quinn is just grateful that Rachel misses the way she winces. "He's the one. I know it." Rachel looks down at the bathroom floor and there is a sickeningly long pause where Quinn can hear her heart beating too fast.

Rachel looks at her, and Quinn thinks about how close they were at the sleepover. She still remembers the feeling of Rachel's breath. Quinn realizes she has to say something to break the tension lingering between them.

"I got into Yale," Quinn says. "Early admissions." 

"Quinn that's amazing," Rachel says, eyes twinkling and smile bright. It doesn't make Quinn as happy as she thought it would given the circumstances. "That's great," she says, reaching out to grab both of Quinn's hands. 

"I'm sure you'll get one to NYADA soon."

Rachel nods. "Oh yeah. I mean, New York mail is notoriously slow." 

"My point is," Quinn says, heavier than she'd like, "I've dated Finn, Puck, Sam. Even convinced myself I loved them. But things change, I've changed." More than Rachel will probably ever know.

Rachel drops Quinn's hands and clenches her jaw. "So you're saying that Finn and I should break up." 

This conversation is tired. "You wanted straight and thoughtful, you can't ask for my opinion and then get upset when I tell you it."

Rachel looks at her, brown eyes wide. She opens her mouth and then promptly shuts it. Quinn is just amazed that she's temporary rendered Rachel Berry speechless.

"You have an amazing life ahead of you," Quinn says, "But you don't know who you're going to be in the future."

"Not everything changes," Rachel says.

For her own sake, Quinn hopes that Rachel is wrong. 

Rachel walks past her and stalls at the door. "I'll see you later?" she asks. 

Quinn bites her lip. "Yeah." Rachel opens the door. "Please don't say yes," she says, quietly. In the end she doesn't know if Rachel hears her or not.

The door shuts, and Quinn is alone once again.

* * *

There’s an almost overwhelming amount of support for Quinn when she tells every one in New Directions about her acceptance. Oddly enough though, most of her attention is focused on Finn.

The boy that was supposed to be her everything at some point. He never was, of course, but Quinn thought it would come. Now he sits next to Rachel, smiling at Quinn, but not in a way that means anything. Not the way he smiles at Rachel, not the way he used to smile at her.

He really loves her.

He’s a fucking idiot, but he loves her. He could ruin Rachel, but he loves her. And he’s a good guy, except for when he’s not, except for when he’s clinging on to Rachel because he doesn’t know what the hell he’s going to do after high school. He’s Finn Hudson, the kind of boy who stays in Lima (and Quinn remembers when she was the kind of girl who stays in Lima).

She remembers when he couldn’t get a job, and now she wonders how the hell he thinks he can just marry Rachel. She doesn’t think Finn realizes how stupid of an idea it is. How can you tie yourself down to someone when you don’t even know what direction you’re headed in?

“Quinn that’s really great,” he says, standing up. He walks towards her and puts a hand on her shoulder, and Quinn once again remembers that he is Finn Hudson, the small town boy who seldom has bad intentions. 

She breathes in and smiles at him. “Thanks,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as an excuse to look down. When she looks back up, Rachel is at his side. They lock eyes for a second. “I’ll see you guys later,” Quinn says before turning to leave.

“Wait up,” Santana calls after her. Quinn doesn’t wait up, and then Santana is practically chasing after her. “Meet at my locker,” Santana calls out towards Brittany as she runs up on Quinn.

“I said wait up,” Santana reiterates once she’s at Quinn’s side.

“Oh, I heard you,” she says.

Santana rolls her eyes. “You’re not still mad about the sleepover thing?”

Quinn remembers the embarrassing heat that took over her body then, and Rachel inching so close because of Santana’s stupid dare. Lips brushing against the corner of her mouth, it was over faster than it began. She mostly remembers the want, and how her breaths went too heavy in her chest.

“What do you want?” Quinn asks, stopping when she reaches her locker.

“Are you still planning on abandoning every one?” Santana asks, a little too sharply.

“I’m not abandoning anyone. I’m leaving. For college. Like several other people in glee.”

Santana slams her hand against the locker next to Quinn’s. It would intimidate most of the students at McKinley. Quinn only stares back at her, bored.

“I just don’t get it,” she says, “You tell everyone about fucking Yale, but you won’t tell them that none of them will ever see you again after graduation?”

Quinn bites down on her tongue, her jaw clenching at the the slight pain. “They don’t need to know,” she says. It’s easier than admitting that she’s afraid of how they’ll react.

“Why’d you tell me?”

“I thought you’d understand.”

Santana shakes her head. “We might both play for the same team, but only one of us has abandonment issues, Quinn. Everyone in that room cares about you, do you get that? Are you going to just become a new person every time things get a little too hard - because Quinn, life sucks. And you’re already on life number two.”

Quinn slams her locker shut and starts walking to class. She feels tears stinging her eyes, and tilts head up to stop them. This day has been emotionally exhausting. “This is something that happens, stop making it out to be a big deal. People graduate; they grow apart.”

“You’re not even trying!” Santana hisses. “And do you know what changing with other people is called? Growing up - something you clearly haven’t done.”

Quinn laughs at that. “And you have? You still fling insults like we’re all at some kindergarten playground. Frankly it’s getting a little sad, Santana.”

“Are you gonna tell Rachel?” Santana asks.

Quinn stops and closes her eyes. “No.”

“She — there’s something there. I won’t say that she isn’t in love with Finn, but—”

“Don’t.” Quinn looks at Santana fully now.

“One day you’re gonna realize that running isn’t the answer,” Santana says. “And I’m not going to be here.”

Quinn gives her a saccharine smile. “Then leave.”

Santana stares at her for a few seconds, and then rolls her eyes before walking in the other direction.

The bell rings, and Quinn breathes out in relief even though she knows this conversation is far from over. Quinn’s relationship with Santana has always been confusing. They’re friends one moment, and trying to kill each other the next. Right now she’d almost prefer the backstabbing Santana.

Quinn doesn’t know what that says about her.

* * *

Quinn is nervous about telling her mother. She knows she doesn’t have to, but at some point she’ll find out through someone in town who isn’t Quinn and things will just get more muddled.

She doesn’t know how her mom will react. Her father never wanted her to go too far, in fact he was adamant that she lived in an almost identical style to mom. Her mother only went to community college.

Frannie goes to Ohio State, but she’s engaged to a medical lawyer who’s seven years older than her. She doesn’t have many actual plans for her Bachelors in Business.

Quinn wonders how they’d react to the news, but they’re at the bottom of her list of people to tell. She hasn’t seen Frannie in over a year, and her Father in even longer.

Her mom is in the kitchen, carefully looking over a recipe as she sets the water to boil. It’s just them tonight because Sam’s gone home for the weekend to see his own family.

“Hey, mom,” Quinn says, resting her hand over her forearm so she doesn’t visibly fidget.

She looks up, face blank for a second before coming to a smile. “Hi, Quinnie,” she says. Her voice is warm. Quinn has moments where it feels like they’re strangers, but then there are other moments when she’s Quinn’s mother without question. Sometimes it would be easier to believe that she didn’t love Quinn because it’s better than knowing how conditional that love can be.

“I have to tell you something,” Quinn says.

Her mother’s face drops. “You’re not pregnant are you?”

Quinn actually laughs at that. “No,” she says, shaking her head. “I- well, I applied to some schools.”

The smile is back, brighter this time. Quinn sighs in relief. “That’s wonderful.”

“Yeah,” Quinn says, nodding. “Yeah…and I, um. I’m going to Yale. I got accepted. Early admissions for the Fall semester.”

Her mother turns off the stove, and takes off the apron. She freezes, and looks at Quinn. There’s a thick tension settling in Quinn’s throat when nothing happens for a few moments. Before she can break the silence, her mother’s arms are wrapped around her.

“Oh, Quinnie,” she says, pulling back. Quinn can see the moisture gathering in her eyes, and has to hold her own tears back. Her mother’s hands come down to hers. “I’m so proud of you,” she says, sniffing. She walks out of the kitchen, taking Quinn along with her. “We’re going out. We’re going to celebrate.” She gasps, dropping Quinn’s hand to get her jacket. “Red Lobster?”

Quinn chuckles under her breath. “We don’t have to - I mean, you were cooking.”

Her mother waves a hand. “Nonsense. We need to celebrate. Is there somewhere particular you’d like to go?”

Quinn looks down and bites her lip to hide the growing smile on her face. “Red Lobster is fine.”

And then they’re on their way to the only Red Lobster in town, which is still a good 20 minutes away from the house. They don’t talk too much on the way there, and Quinn feels comfortable with the silence. She’s got it on some easy listening station, and Quinn starts to hum as she recognizes the song. _Downtown_ by Petula Clark. Idly she wonders if that would be a good song to sing for New Directions.

“_Downtown, things we’ll be great when you’re,_” her mother sings, and Quinn finishes the line, “_Downtown_.” They both laugh.

They used to sing in the car all the time when she was a kid. Sometimes Frannie and her father would sing too. Her father always used to like Elvis, and he hated most music that came after the 60’s despite being born in ‘69. Quinn tried to be like that and only listened to older music until she got to middle school. Her favorites were always Billie Holiday, Sam Cooke and Otis Redding; but her father used to argue that Frank Sinatra was better so Quinn listened to him as well.

“You’re father loved… loves,” she says, correcting herself, “Franks version of this. He used to sing it.”

“I was just thinking about that,” Quinn admits with a short laugh. She has good memories with her father. It just hurts to think about them because she has more bad memories.

They’re settled into a booth at the restaurant moments later.

“So Yale,” her mother says. “That’s…” She shakes her head and sighs. “Do you know what you’re going to do there?”

“No,” Quinn says. “I’ve been thinking about things, but I don’t know exactly what I want.” She’s thought about acting, and in theory it sounds perfect for her. She’s good at crying, she’s pretty, and she enjoys it. But she isn’t sure about having it as a career, or doing it forever.

“Well, that’s okay.” She rests her head atop her hand. “I always thought you got the best parts of him,” she says, idly. Quinn doesn’t know how to respond. She doesn’t like thinking about her father, doesn’t like how it makes her feel worthless. “You’re smart, and you’re bold.” She laughs, but it’s wet. Quinn thinks that she got the crying thing from her mom. “It scares me sometimes. How independent you can be.” She licks her lips and then looks up when the waiter attends to them.

“Are you going to tell him?” she asks once they’ve finished ordering.

Quinn sips on her water for a few moments. “No,” she finally says. “I don’t…I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t know if I ever will.”

Her mother sighs and takes a sip from her wine. “Can I tell you something?”

Quinn nods.

“They talk about forgiveness so much in church. I think about that a lot.”

“Mom-” Quinn starts, ready to defend herself. She stops at her mother's raised hand.

“I don’t think I agree,” she says. After a quick pause, she laughs. “I know I’m older, and I’m your mother - but after your Father… everything he did,” she trails off and wipes her eyes. “I haven’t had my own thoughts together for a long time. That’s why I used to cling to your father. His opinions were so strong, and I was - I’ve made a lot of mistakes because I’m not bold.” She reaches her hand out and takes Quinn’s. “Could you forgive me? One day?”

Quinn sucks in a breath as a tear trails down her face. It tickles and she wipes it away. Quinn nods, and gives a hesitant, “I think.”

“Good,” she says. “I don’t forgive your father for what he did to our family. I don’t think I can ever forgive myself either.”

“Dad was an asshole,” Quinn says flippantly. 

“Quinn!” her mother admonishes, but she’s smiling. “He was wasn’t he?” she says with a laugh. “An asshole.”

It feels like old times for several striking moments. When they would joke and laugh about things because the world didn’t move so fast. Quinn wants to cling to the fleeting normalcy. They’re just a mother and a daughter, and her chest feels so heavy when she thinks about leaving this behind. “I love you, mom,” she says for the first time since she can remember. She doesn’t know if she can completely forgive right now, but she can admit that.

“That’s all we need sometimes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if glee was made today rachel would have a tiktok


	12. thank god for dresses with pockets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posted three chapters at the same time because they're all kind of connected. also think these chapters will quell a lot of ..concern people had :) thank you for reading. happy holidays if you celebrate/happy days if you don't

Rachel’s always considered herself a big believer in the best possible outcome coming true; but she can’t help the sinking feeling in her stomach every time she thinks of the decision she still has to make. It’s such a simple choice. Yes or no.

She shifts in the bed, leaning over towards her nightstand. Finn leans over to look at what she’s digging for, and when Rachel finds it, he gives her this look of complete confusion; which is different from his mildly confused look where his mouth doesn’t hang open so wide.

“Woah,” he says. He laughs under his breath. “Cigarettes? You start smoking?”

Rachel looks at the green cartridge, reading over the faded Newports text on the top of the box. She then turns and looks at Finn. “I would never even think to risk the possibility of damaging my vocal chords. Not to mention lung cancer, poor breath control…” she trails off whilst opening the box.

“Oh,” he says. He puts the notebook he was pretending to look up down and leans in closer. “Why do you have them?” he asks.

Rachel chews the inside of her cheek. They’re Quinn’s. Or they were…now they’re Rachel’s, and she has no plans of returning them. Rachel likes to hold onto them when she starts to think about Quinn - they bring her a strange sense of comfort, the same way a raggedy blanket brings comfort to a child. Rachel always counts them down to make sure there are 12 because it reminds her that Quinn doesn’t smoke anymore.

There was a time when they weren’t friends, and there was a time when Quinn smoked; and neither of those times are now. Sometimes Rachel isn’t sure if the past ever really even happened, but she’s never been one to dwell.

Rachel looks at the filter and imagines Quinn’s lips around it, the smoke entering her lungs, the long exhale. It always made Rachel mad that something so ugly could go into Quinn’s mouth; that Quinn would do something like that to herself.

“They help me think,” Rachel says, and doesn’t add that she’s thinking about Quinn specifically. She’s thinking about Quinn’s reaction to Rachel telling her about the proposal. _Please don’t say yes._

“Are you thinking about…you know?” he shrugs. “I’m not trying to pressure you about it or anything, but it’s kind of nerve wracking. A guy proposes and there’s no answer.” He gives a nervous laugh.

Rachel sits up and puts the cigarettes away.

Why did Quinn sound so sad. She jumps slightly when Finn’s hand is brushing against her back, rubbing small, soft circles.

“It’s a big decision, Finn.”

“I know, but-” he pauses and twists his hands together. “I just really want you to say yes. I mean what’s the big deal?”

“It’s marriage,” Rachel says. “I just always thought I’d be older.” And wiser, and more famous and have enough money to throw something tastefully extravagant. And there’s also Quinn.

“I don’t wanna be with anyone other than you,” he says.

“That could change,” Rachel says under her breath as she thinks about her conversation with Quinn. She isn’t sure if she means it, and when she looks up at Finn, his gaze wavers. “It’s just something I have to think about.”

“You know that I love you, right?” he says.

Rachel doesn’t know why she can’t just say yes. She also doesn’t know why she can’t say no. Up until this year she’s been so sure of herself, but now she just doesn’t know. She doesn’t want to see Finn’s heart break, but then she remembers how sad Quinn looked.

Why was she so sad?

“I know, Finn,” she says. “I love you too. Can you just …wait?”

He looks down, defeated. “Yeah.” He shoots his head back up only a second later. “Will you wear it?”

“Finn…” She feels guilty because she knows how much Finn loves her. It would be easy to just say yes.

He fishes the ring out of his pocket. “Just for a day.”

Compromise isn’t a word that is normally in Rachel’s highly extensive vocabulary, but when she sees the brief glimmer of hope in Finn’s eyes, she can’t help but nod. She can give him a day.

* * *

Thank God for dresses with pockets. She would also like to add: thank God for Kurt Hummel for introducing her to fashionable dresses with pockets. Rachel has gotten less than five wardrobe insults this year as opposed to last years 102 (60 of those being from Santana).

Not that fashion is really the point today, seeing as she’s only taken her left hand out from her dress eight times today (very, very briefly.) She almost feels guilty for hiding it because in some ways it feels like she’s hiding Finn - which she isn’t trying to do. But if rumors spreads that she’s engaged, New Directions won’t be focused enough on winning Regional's.

“Hey,” Quinn says, walking beside her.

Rachel’s hand twitches slightly before she has a moment to take Quinn in. She’s gotten gradually less punk in terms of style. Today she’s only wearing black pants, a white shirt, and a black leather jacket. She doesn’t have any dark makeup on. The dangling cross hanging from her left ear and pink mop of hair are the only things that strongly resembles the earlier days of the school year. She’s even taken the nose ring out. Rachel wishes she could count the cigarettes again.

“What’s up with you?” she says with a small smile. Quinn’s always prettiest when she smiles. That’s something that Rachel believes of everyone, but it’s actually a stark compliment when she thinks about how Quinn is also pretty when she cries, when she frowns, and when she’s spectacularly angry.

Rachel sighs. “Are you sure you don’t want to join the Unicorn and allies club?”

Quinn shrugs and touches her cross for a quick moment. “Afraid I have a schedule conflict.”

_God Squad._ Rachel always wonders if it’s like their celibacy club meetings from last year. She smiles quickly at the thought of that. They weren’t really friends at the time, but they’d had moments.

“Well, I won’t pretend to not be hurt that you’ve rejected my thwarts three times after I’ve begged,” Rachel says dramatically, “But I understand. A little.”

Quinn laughs, and then stops at her classroom door. “See you later.”

Rachel waves. “Bye.”

The quick walk to her own club meeting does nothing to stir away her thoughts, and she’s forcing a smile when she sits down for the meeting.

“Hi, Kurt,” she says quietly. Brittany and Santana aren’t there yet, and Blaine is resting at home from an eye incident. No new members have signed up, either.

“You okay?” he asks.

She widens her grin and nods quickly. “Yes. I’m just thinking about what exactly we’ll be doing in today’s meeting.”

Kurt tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes, resting his index finger against his temple. “You almost always think out loud, Rachel,” he says. “It’s actually a little creepy when you think to yourself.” Kurt flicks his finger down so that he’s pointing at her. “You’re hiding something.”

“That’s crazy,” Rachel says. Rachel considers herself an amazing actress, but a terrible liar; it’s one of her fascinating enigmas that will someday be in her autobiography. She hasn’t told Kurt, and judging by the way he’s staring at her - Finn hasn’t mentioned the proposal either.

Rachel never thought she’d be relieved by Santana Lopez entering a room.

“Hello little straight riding hood and the tiny bad twink.”

Rachel takes back her earlier sentiments as she feels like Santana spent a good five minutes thinking of a proper insult. “Hello Santana, Brittany.”

Brittany smiles and sits down opposite of Kurt and Rachel. “Where’s every one else?” she asks.

“No one else signed up,” Kurt says, “Well, except a girl who liked horses and thought this was going to be about actual unicorns.”

“I don’t get it. We are actual unicorns.”

“Three out of four, babe,” Santana says, looking towards Rachel.

“But it’s funner to be a unicorn.”

Rachel finally stands up, exasperated. “One, I’m right here. Two, it’s 'more fun' - funner is not a word. Three,” she lifts her hands from her dress (she’s always been a hand talker). Just as she’s about to explain that it’s not out of this realm for her to be a unicorn, everyone’s eyes are on her finger.

“Tell me that’s not what I think it is,” Kurt says. “_Rachel_.”

Santana’s face has gone from unattached smugness to pure horror. “You’re pregnant?”

Brittany rubs her hand on the small of Santana’s back before looking at Rachel and saying, “Who’s the father?”

“I’m not pregnant!” Rachel lowers her head, and her hands and takes in a deep breath. “Finn proposed.”

“And you said yes?” Kurt asks. “Rachel are you crazy?”

Santana follows up quickly, “I know you and Finn can bare an uncomfortable resemblance to the side show that is Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury, but this is a level of freak beyond even you.”

“I didn’t say yes. I mean…it’s not what you think,” she says. “I’m just wearing it.”

“You don’t just wear an engagement ring!” Kurt says. “Rachel think about your future. NYADA.”

Rachel turns to face him. “None of that’s going to change, Kurt.” She’s been telling herself this ever since she had her conversation with Quinn. “I haven’t even said yes! I’m just thinking about it.” She looks at the ring and then back at Kurt. His face is red, eyes practically bulging out of his skull. “And whether I say yes or no won’t change anything. Both of you are a part of my future.”

“Sweetie, I get the sentiment, but marriage changes everything. Are you-”

“Fucking insane?” Santana finishes, cutting Kurt off.

“Um, straight marriage is legal now, so I guess love is love …but you and Finn totally broke up like 10 times already,” Brittany says.

“We’ve learned,” Rachel says as she stands up. “And what if Brittany asked you, or vice versa,” she turns to Kurt, “What if Blaine asked you?”

Kurt stands up as well. “He wouldn’t because that’s crazy, and I’m going to tell Finn how crazy it is after I kill him!” He’s even more red than before, which is something Rachel didn’t think possible. “You are both barely 18, don’t you think that kind of commitment is going to be a little heavy when you’re out in New York around new people?”

“So you’d say no to Blaine?” Rachel asks, her own face heating up. Kurt knows her so well because they’re so alike, and Rachel knows Kurt in return. Out of everyone he knows what it’s like to feel lonely, and he knows what it’s like when you aren’t lonely anymore. She didn’t think Kurt would attack her like this, she thought he might at least _understand_ her apprehension.

“Maybe the big issue here is Finnept shouldn’t have asked in the first place.”

“I think we should end this meeting,” Rachel says, already making her way towards the door. “Please just…don’t tell anyone.” And it isn’t a storm out because Rachel gently closes the door behind her when she leaves. She doesn’t know if they’re wrong, but she also can’t say for sure that they’re right.

* * *

It does not stay a secret.

Santana tells Quinn, Quinn tells Sam, Sam tells Mercedes, Mercedes tells Tina, Tina tells Artie and Mike. Artie tells Puck. By the time it’s after school, and they’re all in the choir room, Rachel can feel the tension from everyone in the room. Even from Mr. Schue.

Rachel looks at Quinn, and Quinn turns away.

Finn doesn’t notice - and if he does notice, he doesn’t say anything. Though he does seem confused by Rachel’s unusual quietness. She’s so anxious that she doesn’t even volunteer to sing.

It’s an unfamiliar feeling and all together unpleasant. Rachel hopes that Quinn will look at her and smile, that she’ll say something or do something that lets Rachel know that they’re okay. It doesn’t come. Quinn avoids her like the plague for the entire rehearsal. By the end, Rachel decides that she physically can’t take it anymore.

Rachel tightens her grip on Finn’s hand and stops so that they’re at the threshold of the door. “Catch up with you later?” she says before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

He looks back towards Quinn, and then turns to Rachel and smiles. “Yeah.”

Soon the classroom is empty save for the two of them. Rachel is still by the door, and Quinn is still sitting in the same spot.

“Say something,” Rachel says. “Please, Quinn say something.” She twists the ring on her finger slightly. For a moment she thinks about throwing it across the room; it feels so unbearably heavy.

Quinn stands up and begins to walk towards the door. “I don’t have anything to say.”

“Say you’re not mad.” Quinn stops, her hand just by the door handle. She looks at Rachel and tenses her jaw. “Or say what you’re thinking,” Rachel continues, “Just - say something.” Rachel feels something desperate clawing inside of her, and she needs to know that they’re going to be okay. Rachel wants Quinn to stop looking at her the way she’s currently doing now. It reminds her too much of the past, and not in a nostalgic way like the celibacy club. “I didn’t say yes. I just…didn’t say no.”

“_You’re so_-” Quinn starts, and then stops. She runs a hand through her hair, and for a moment Rachel thinks she’s just going to walk out. “Why?” she asks. “Why do you ask me things and then…” she exhales a slightly shaky breath. “You’re wearing the ring.”

“It isn’t what you think.” She feels so helpless. “He asked me to wear it for a day, that’s all.”

“Rachel. You don’t just wear an engagement ring for a day.”

Rachel isn’t sure why, but she can already feel the beginnings of tears welling in her eyes. And when Quinn starts to open the door, something inside of her cracks. “You don’t get it,” she says. Quinn halts once again. “You know I still haven’t gotten my callback letter from NYADA?” She isn’t crying yet, but her throat feels thick. “Finn is the only thing that-” she starts, “he’ll stay with me.” It sounds admittedly naive, but it's true. “If I say yes, we could-” she takes in a breath. “We’d have each other.”

“That’s bullshit,” Quinn says. “Rachel when did you start needing Finn to be there? When did you start needing anyone?” Quinn turns fully. “Do you remember last year? When I told you that Finn and I would end up together, that we would stay in Lima, and you would be off somewhere doing something important. Something big. Do you know how much I told myself I believed all of that?” Her eyes soften slightly, but only for a second.

“Were you in love with him?” Rachel asks, the words falling from her mouth so fast that Rachel’s almost confused when she hears them. But she needs to know, and she needs Quinn to understand.

Quinn gives a humorless laugh, tilting her head back slightly. “It’s like you do these things on purpose,” she mutters, “or God has a sick sense of humor.”

“What?” Rachel asks.

Quinn stares at her, not speaking for a few moments. Her gaze is less cutting now, now searching along the lines of Rachel’s face; but Rachel doesn’t know what she’s looking for and she isn’t sure why she feels so completely exposed. Rachel looks at her lips, at the quick tremble before they purse.

“No,” Quinn says. “I wasn’t in love.”

“I love him, Quinn. And after being alone for so long-”

“You’re still in high school. Every high school girl thinks they’re going to marry their high school boyfriend.”

Rachel looks down. “Don’t be cruel. Not after everything.”

Quinn takes a step closer, eyes once again searching. Rachel forces herself to meet them as her heart thrums loud and heavy in her chest. “And what exactly is everything, Rachel?”

She’s close, and even though Quinn is only a few inches taller than her, Rachel’s never felt more small. “We’re friends,” she says.

“Are we always going to be friends?” she asks, almost vacantly. “Is that what you think?

Rachel lifts her head higher now. “Quinn, you’re so important to me,” she says. “Of course we’re always going to be friends.” There is a stillness in between them, heavy with tension and for several seconds Rachel forgets how to breathe. Rachel’s eyes flicker down to her lips again and she thinks about those twelve cigarettes, and the taste of the filter.

She doesn’t realize how close they’ve gotten until she feels Quinn’s breath against her skin. Time seems to stop for a moment, and Rachel finds herself momentarily dazed. “People grow apart,” Quinn says. And with that the world starts crashing down.

“What does that mean?” Rachel says. The words themselves aren’t hard to understand, but those words in terms of Rachel - it’s something that she can’t accept. She’ll never be able to accept that.

“There are other people out there,” Quinn says. She doesn’t look mad anymore, just tired, disappointed. “You could marry anyone you wanted, you can get married anytime you want, how ever many times you want. I’m just saying Lima, Ohio isn’t the end all be all. I know that it feels like that sometimes, I know that. But you’re special, Rachel. Say no.”

Rachel’s breath hitches in her throat. “What if I’m not always special?” she asks. Quinn’s eyes are starting to prickle, and Rachel can feel a tear roll down her own cheek. She doesn’t know how they got here. Why this is heavy, why her skin is burning up, why her heart is beating so fast. “When you’re in Yale, and every one is off doing other things - what if Finn is all I have?”

Quinn turns away, settling her hand on the door knob once more. “You’re being stupid,” she says, and then she’s gone.

Rachel leaves once it doesn’t look like she’s been crying. Then she goes home.

She checks the mail and sees a letter from NYADA. Before opening it she wonders what she’ll do if it’s a rejection letter. Within this envelope all of her hopes and dreams could come spiraling down. She sits down at the kitchen table and opens it.

** _Dear Rachel,_ **

** _We’d like to extend an invitation to audition for the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts_ **

Rachel smiles down at the letter. She picks up her phone and texts Kurt, and then Quinn - but stops as she’s typing out the message. Rachel puts down her phone, ignoring the buzzing that’s probably Kurt’s responding text message.

She instead looks at the ring, and then without thought, Rachel takes it off and puts it into her pocket. She’ll give it back to Finn tomorrow, though she still doesn’t have an answer.

A part of her can’t help but wish that he never asked her.

With that, Rachel realizes she _does _have an answer.

_No._


	13. old shit

_“You’re being stupid.”_

Quinn has to leave after that because her god awful heart is beating so loud she can feel it pounding all throughout her body. She can’t even hear the door slamming behind her, or her feet stomping as she storms off. She can’t even fucking think about anything besides how idiotic Rachel is being. Her body feels flush, and she knows her cheeks are red the same way she knows that any second now her face will be wet with tears.

She almost screams, and then she sees Santana and Brittany edging up into her peripheral. Quinn actually feels her hand twitch. She needs a cigarette, or a wall, or a face.

“What are you guys doing here?” she asks.

“Chill out, stretch marks, we were just around,” Santana says.

“Santana I am absolutely dying to hit something right now so if you don’t-”

“I’ve been itching to show you a little Lima heights,” she says, stepping forward.

“We were eavesdropping,” Brittany says. Santana stops and looks back at Brittany. “Sorry, babe. Make love not war.”

“I’m leaving now,” Quinn says.

“You should hang out with us,” Brittany says.

Quinn remembers what hanging out with Santana and Brittany means, and she isn’t really interested in watching them make out while she does homework. “I think I’m good,” she says. It’s harder to be mean to Brittany.

“Look, the hobbit totally sucks sometimes,” Santana says. “Why don’t you come over and we can comment mean things on her Myspace like we used to do.” Quinn almost laughs. This is Santana trying to be nice. 

She has no desire to bully Rachel. Not anymore at least. The thought actually makes her a little sick, and she wonders if Rachel would be in this current situation had Quinn not made her life a living hell at one point. “People don’t use Myspace anymore,” Quinn mumbles. “And really…I just want to go home.”

“Santana told me all the stuff about you wanting to start a new identity. And I know that probably means you’re gonna move to Mexico, or Canada, which is just Mexico number two. I’m really sad,” Brittany says. “If you want to do that you can, but we should hang out before you do. Also if you get a mustache I want to see it before you leave.”

Quinn only understands about half of what Brittany just said, but the parts she does understand manage to leave a sinking guilt inside of her. “Fine,” she says, walking towards them.

Brittany claps while Quinn tries to think up an excuse to leave as soon as possible.

* * *

“Okay. So what’s the deal?” Santana says when they’re all situated in her room.

She’s settled at Santana’s desk, looking at Santana and Brittany who are both sitting on the edge of the bed. It’s so familiar that Quinn’s almost shocked by her reflection in Santana’s mirror. “What deal? You guys begged me to hang out, so I’m here.”

“Let me be real then. The girl you’ve been wetting your panties over for what? Four years? Just told you she might marry Frankenfinn.”

Quinn tries to hide her flush with a tight scowl. “And what am I supposed to do about that?” she lifts her hand. “Rachel doesn’t listen to me. She's being dumb.”

“That’s mean,” Brittany says. “I think you’re just mad because, like, you love her so much, and don’t want her doing the wrong thing.”

“I can’t stop it,” Quinn says firmly. “She’s Rachel. If she wants to marry Finn, she’ll marry Finn.”

Santana rolls her eyes. “Oh get a grip,” she says as she stands up. She looks down at Quinn, hands on her hips. It’s a strange power imbalance that Quinn isn’t completely used to. She doesn’t like it. “I can’t believe I have to be the one that says this, but Quinn you need to get back on your old shit. You were a total bitch, yeah, but you knew how to get things done.”

“And you seemed less sad,” Brittany says.

“Why do you care?” Quinn asks. “It’s not like we haven’t both stabbed each other in the back.” She laughs unkindly. “Several times, I might add.”

“Because I’m still your fucking friend, bitch. Yeah, I’ve stabbed you in the back; but you’ve always known that I was going to do that. It never _really_ surprised you. It didn’t surprise me when you screwed me over, either. This is gonna sound lame, but we know each other when not many other people know us.”

“And it wasn’t all bad,” Brittany says. “Like remember that time we put laxatives in Coach Sue’s energy drink so we could get off practice early, and she totally found out and gave it to the top of the pyramid freshman year.” She smiles as Santana and Quinn both grimace.

“You demanded to be the top of the pyramid the next day,” Santana says. “Quinn, the three of us used to be able to get anything done. And we got everything we wanted.”

Quinn sighs. “I told you, she won’t listen to me.”

“I know Berry likes to open her mouth, but I promise you - you’re opinion of her has always mattered. If she isn’t listening, then just make her listen.”

Brittany nods. “You could borrow Coach Sue’s megaphone.”

“Quinn, just think about all the things we used to do when we couldn’t get our way.”

Quinn stares up at Santana lazily. “Sabotage, lie, cheat, blackmail, extreme intimidation,” she says. And those are just the things that Coach Sue put them up to.

“Okay,” Santana says with a nod. “Then watch the hobbit agree to get married and probably reproduce in a year because Finn likes to move fast. And when she’s pregnant she won’t be able to perform so she’ll hate Finn. Then she’s stuck with a baby an-”

“I get it!” Quinn says, not doing anything to hide her disgust. And while everything Santana is saying sounds like a bad movie plot from the 90’s, Quinn can’t help but think:_ What if that happens?_ What if Rachel really ruins her life because of this. “Do you have any hydrogen peroxide?”

* * *

Quinn can’t stop looking at herself. The piercings are gone, save for two small stars on her earlobes. There’s no makeup, no bracelets or bands. No pink hair. Quinn can admit that she’s missed being blond. She missed the way the lightness reflects against her face and makes her appear softer.

It feels like the past year didn’t even happen, like she was never friends with the skanks or Rachel.

Quinn jolts at the sound of Sam’s voice as he walks in the front door.

“Hey Judy, you’re home early-” Quinn turns around and watches as Sam’s eyes widen. “Quinn? Woah…”

“Hey,” she says, putting her compact away.

“Did you…borrow my peroxide?” he mutters the last part.

Quinn shakes her head. “No,” and then she smiles. “Just needed a change. How were things with Mercedes?”

He frowns. “Complicated, but…” Sam pokes his tongue against his cheek, “I have faith. But what about you? I mean…”

She shrugs. “I’m figuring it out.” She leans down and then laughs under her breath. “Okay, maybe not. But I’m thinking about it. Or scheming, I guess.” She thinks about what Santana said, and how she was right. Quinn’s made a lot of mistakes, and lost a lot of things - but she’s also had the entire high school underneath her foot.

She’s thought about maybe framing Finn as a cannibal, or making it seem like he cheated; but it seems too immature. Quinn needs them to realize how dumb this is on their own. Also she would feel bad if Finn got arrested or something.

“So you’re gonna stop the engagement?” Sam says with a wide smile that stretches, quite literally, all the way across his face. “Quinn, that’s like the most punk thing you’ve done this year.”

“They’re not engaged,” Quinn mutters, absentmindedly.

“But the ring…?”

“She hasn’t said yes.” She looks up. “What if I made her smell really bad? Like gave her a bad perfume…no. Finn wouldn’t care if she smells bad.” Back to the drawing board. For the first time in a long time Quinn wonders what would Coach Sue do.

Sam raises one eyebrow. “Uh. Did you try just talking to her?”

“No go.” Quinn bites her lip and looks at Sam fully. “What would you do?”

His eyebrows furrow as he thinks. “Reverse psychology. Like Who Framed Roger Rabbit.”

Quinn shakes her head. “That wouldn’t work with Rachel,” she says. “She lives off of encouragement, she just also happens to be stupidly stubborn sometimes.”

“Damn,” Sam says. “Wonder if there’s a way to give her neither. None psychology,” he says with a short laugh. “Uno reverse psychology.”

Quinn stops paying attention and thinks about that for a moment. She thinks about how she used to rule the school, and made everyone think that she didn’t care about anything. Quinn did care, of course, but refusing to show it is what made people truly scared of her. That and all of the cruelty.

“That’s not a bad idea,” she says as Sam is rambling about Uno.

He gives her a thumbs up.

* * *

**Santana:** _u rdy?_

**Santana:** _hurry up bitch_

**Brittany:** _san want 2 kno if u rdy_

Quinn looks at her phone and rolls her eyes. She told Santana that carpooling to school wasn’t necessary, and Santana had agreed until Brittany made a sad face and talked about how they all used to ride to school together in the mornings.

She does a once over in the mirror. The only thing different from her appearance now and her appearance sophomore year is that she’s missing a Cheerios outfit and her hair is slightly shorter. She’s wearing a blue dress, simple, something she could wear to church and a first date. Her makeup is less dramatic.

Finn always used to tell her that he liked that she didn’t wear makeup, and Quinn never bothered telling him that she was wearing makeup. It just wasn’t thick eyeliner and red lipstick. After months of channeling her inner 2000 era Avril, she understands why he was confused.

There’s an obnoxious honking noise outside, and Quinn decides that she better just go before the neighbors file a noise complaint to the HOA. She touches the cross hanging from her neck, letting her thumb linger over it, and then heads out.

“Took you long enough,” Santana says.

“You look cute,” Brittany says.

Quinn smiles and hops into the back seat. “Thanks.”

The radio is playing. It’s some pop song that Quinn’s never heard.

“So what’s the plan?” Santana asks. “I was thinking we could put laxatives in Finn’s Pepsi during lunch.” It’s so freshman year that Quinn actually laughs. “What?” Santana asks, looking back at Quinn in the rear view mirror. “No one wants to be engaged to the guy who shits himself in public.” Santana then gasps. “We could give Rachel the laxatives.”

Quinn’s eyes widen in horror. “No laxatives.”

“We could give one of them mono,” Brittany says.

Quinn rolls her eyes. “No plans,” she says, and then chews on the inside of her cheek. “Not yet, at least. I want to try something else, first.”

Brittany turns in her seat to look at Quinn. “Like making Rachel look pregnant by giving her watermelon seeds?”

Quinn shakes her head. “No. But it’s early, and-”

“We gotta act fast. Once Rachel makes up her mind it’ll be impossible,” Santana says. 

“She’s not an idiot,” Quinn says, slightly defensive. Though it is true that once she makes a decision she tends to stick with it.

Santana whips into a parking space at school. Quinn forgot how fast Santana drives. “Look,” Santana says as they all leave the car, “I don’t think Rachel is stupid. I want to hit her in the face sometimes, sure, but we’ve all been through a lot. So I think that we all know the girl can do stupid things.”

Brittany nods. “One time she paid me to wear arm warmers for an entire day. It was weird.”

“I get it,” Quinn says, gradually getting annoyed with both Santana and the situation she’s in. “I…I have an idea. My own plan,” she says, despite having no such thing. She thinks she’ll have a plan, though. Soon enough.

* * *

Coach Sue is the first person to comment on her look. Other people stare, of course, but no one says anything.

“Look what the cat dragged back,” she says, looking Quinn up and down. She narrows her eyes and leans in. “Somethings different about you, and I don’t mean the heady, potent scent of hydrogen peroxide someone must have water boarded you with last night.” She sniffs the air. “Dreadful.”

Quinn levels with her, head and chest both high. “Coach Sue,” she says. “I actually wanted to talk to you.”

Coach Sue rests her chin in her hand. “Not worth the time,” she says, and then walks off.

Quinn glares at her back, but decides she’ll deal with that problem later. She wants back on the Cheerios, but it isn’t at the top of her list.

“Anyways, Kurt, I’ll see you later,” Quinn hears from down the hallway. She turns and sees Rachel scurrying off in the opposite direction. Kurt watches her leave and then turns to see Quinn. His eyes widen and then narrow, and Quinn idly thinks about how it reminds her of a honey badger being squeezed around the stomach.

She needs to talk to Rachel again, despite not having anything to say. From the looks of it, though, Rachel doesn’t want to see her. It hurts more than Quinn would like to admit. Maybe she was too harsh this time.

She thought Rachel would at least have something to say about her hair. Or she hoped.

Quinn closes her locker and sighs before going to walk towards her class. She’s stopped by Kurt Hummel calling out her name.

“Glad to see the Magenta is gone, but that dress looks like it came out of the baby gap,” he says.

“Can I help you?” Quinn asks. She doesn’t tell him that the dress actually is from Gap. There is only one mall in all of Lima. The selection is limited.

“It’s not bad,” Kurt says. “Actually it is bad, but you can pull off better than most.” Quinn wonders if this is payback for all the times she made fun of Rachel’s clothes. “Anyways, we need to talk.”

Quinn knits her eyebrows together. “About Gap?”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “No, about that,” he says, tilting his head down the hallway that Rachel practically just ran down. He sighs. “Are we not going to talk about the obvious elephant in the room? I wanna know how you did it.”

Now Quinn is thoroughly confused. She touches her hair. “Hydrogen Peroxide and baking soda?”

Kurt’s eyes widen. “You mean you don’t know?” Quinn watches as some sort of slow realization crosses over his features.

“Okay either tell me what I don’t supposedly know, or I’m leaving. I’ve been late to Physics four times this semester.” She’s about to get a write-up, not that it really matters since she’s already gotten into Yale.

She starts walking towards her class when Kurt stays silent for a few lingering seconds. It isn’t until Kurt says, “Rachel and Finn broke up,” that she stops dead in her tracks.

“What?”

“She came over yesterday, her and Finn got into a fight - of which I, of course, eavesdropped on. Wait - how do you not know unless…” he stops and narrows his eyes. “She’s mad at you.”

Quinn would break out into a full on smile if it weren’t for that small detail. “We just talked,” Quinn says. Her face is growing hot, and she isn’t sure how to fully react to the news.

“You care about her,” he says. It’s the stupidest observation that he could possibly make, and Quinn rolls her eyes. “At first I thought you just maybe wanted something, but you actually consider her a friend.”

“You plan on getting into NYADA with those smarts?” Quinn asks.

“Why?” he asks, ignoring her comment.

Quinn lets out a long breath and considers not answering. “Rachel is a lot of things, but she’s a good person,” Quinn says. “It’s not rocket science.”

“I believe you,” he says after a moment.

“Thanks. Don’t know what I would have done without that.”

“But how’d you do it? I mean - I am by no means judging you. You probably stopped what would have been one of the worst decisions Rachel _and_ Finn would have made in their lives, but-”

“Like I said, we just talked.” Quinn doesn’t know how many times she has to say that to get it through his thick, well-conditioned head.

“You used to be awful…” he says. “Honestly I was worried for Rachel when she first said that the two of you were getting close.”

Quinn might hit him if he didn’t have a point.

“Look, I’m not trying to excuse how I acted in the past - but you don’t know everything I’ve been through. Believe it or not, I had my reasons as to why I…acted that way. Things change.” The bell rings. Shit. Tardy number five.

“Please Quinn, I’m gay and I never made someone’s life a living hell.”

Quinn gives a dry laugh that’s more to hide the snarl creeping up on her face. “Listen, Kurt. We just talked,” Quinn says for the third time. She doesn’t think he needs to know about their small fight, or the tears, or the way Quinn felt absolutely sick when looking at the ring.

He rests his hand on his hip. “Alright, I believe you.”

Quinn is going to blow a gasket. “Gee. Thanks, again.”

“But you need to make things right with her.”

At one point in Quinn’s life she thought Rachel Berry was the most annoying person on the planet. Then it was Santana, but now it’s quickly turning into Kurt. “I’ll get right on that.”

“She cares about you a lot. And I don’t love having to share my best friend, but you’re not the worst thing to happen to her.”

Quinn laughs under her breath. “And what’s the worst thing to happen to her?”

Kurt grimaces. “Years ago she got a perm. She showed me a picture.”

Quinn raises one eyebrow, but then turns to walk away. He doesn’t stop her this time. Thank God.

* * *

Quinn is happy that the engagement fiasco is over, but after two days of Rachel not talking to her, Quinn finds that she misses her. It’s weird to miss someone when they’re right in front of you. Quinn wonders if that’s how Rachel felt at the beginning of the year when she begged Quinn to rejoin New Directions.

It’s a different kind of missing. Like drinking water when your starving.

They’re all busy with prep for Regional's, though there is an awkward atmosphere that’s hard to ignore. Rachel and Finn are five feet apart at all times unless they’re performing their group number. Rachel also keeps away from Quinn.

When rehearsal ends, Rachel is the first to leave. Quinn thinks about chasing her down because while she wants to respect Rachel’s need for space, this is getting a little ridiculous. If they just _talked_.

“Hey Quinn, can we talk?” Finn asks, lingering behind Quinn.

“Not interested.”

“Quinn, please,” he says.

She pauses and looks up at him. “Fine,” she says if only because she’s partly curious about what he has to say. “What is it, Finn?”

He shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. He’s nervous, and that might work to Quinn’s advantage. “I just…What did you say to her? And why? Is it because of…us?” he asks. Quinn doesn’t like his tone, the accusatory way he’s speaking to her like she owes him some sort of explanation.

“No,” she says, somehow managing to still say calm. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It’s a half lie because she really doesn’t know what’s going through Rachel’s head. She wishes she had at least an idea, which is the only reason she’s humoring Finn.

“Listen, I care about you, Quinn. And I know you and Rachel are friends. She’s-” he sighs. “I know you said something to her. She stayed behind to talk to you the other day, and suddenly she wants to break up? What did you do?” He sounds a little angry now. His face is starting to get splotchy, white and red mingling over his skin. “You had no business just…butting in. I love her, you know?”

“Every one thinks they’re going to end up with their first love,” Quinn says.

“But I loved you.”

Quinn feels like she’s sucked in too much air at once and nearly coughs. Her lip quivers as she searches for something to say. There are so many thoughts, but she can’t form any sentences. Finn would have married her sophomore year, if she asked him to. If it was for the baby, he would have done it because he doesn’t think about things fully.

“I know you don’t believe it,” he says, “but I really did.”

“Asking her to marry you was a mistake.”

“_Come on_, Quinn!” he almost whines. “You’re being so…selfish!”

“I’m being selfish?” she says. “Finn, that was one of the most selfish things you’ve ever done!” she steps forward. “She’s going to New York soon, and you don’t even know what you’re going to eat for dinner. You asked her because you know that she’s going to go places, and that meant she might forget about you someday.”

“It’s not-”

“Isn’t it?” Quinn asks. “God, a week from now you’ll be talking about going to LA. Finn, just admit that you still don’t know what you want to be. Admit that you’re clinging onto Rachel until you figure that out. And she’s been clinging onto you because she doesn’t every want to be lonely again. You know that, and you were taking advantage of it, Finn. That’s selfish.”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” he says, his face now completely red. “Just tell me what you said to her!”

Quinn smiles cruelly, and she thinks that this is all wrong. But she can’t stop the words from coming out, the things she’s held back. “She’d resent you, or you’d end up resenting her. We both know that. Finn, everyone knows that. Don’t be upset with me because she figured that out. Getting married in high school was never going to work out. Not for either of you.”

“You’ve always thought you were better than every one else,” he says. And once again he couldn’t be more wrong. “But she’s the one. I know it, and I love her.” He looks at Quinn with glassy eyes. “I really love her.”

She does know that. “You’re not the only one,” she says.

Finn’s eyebrows scrunch up, and Quinn realizes she’s fucked up. “You-?”

“Grow up, Finn,” Quinn says, and then turns on her heel.

“She’s not-” he shouts, “she’s not like that.”

_Like that_.

She doesn’t bother dignifying that with an answer, instead choosing to silently storm into Coach Sue’s office.


	14. breakup

**day of the breakup / nine days before regionals**

Rachel knocks on the door to the Hummel’s residence with her head tilted down just the tiniest bit. The ring is still in her pocket, and she flexes her fingers to remind herself of how light they feel.

Kurt answers the door, not saying hello and immediately wrapping his arms around her with a big hug. “One more step,” he says excitedly into her ear in reference to NYADA. Oddly enough Rachel’s barely thought about it. It was supposed to be all she thought about. But right now all she’s thinking about is the ring that’s burning a hole through her pocket.

Still, she hugs Kurt back - albeit weakly.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling away. His eyes dart to her hand, then back up. “Rachel, I know I said some things earlier but-”

“It’s not that,” she says. “I just need to talk with Finn.” She offers a thin smile and then it breaks. “I can’t marry him,” she says, quickly. “I can’t - I don’t know what to do.”

Kurt rests his arms on her shoulders, his eyes soft and sympathetic. “Sweetie,” he murmurs. He brings her in for another hug as he slowly moves them backward into the house. Rachel feels tears gathering in her eyes and hopes it won’t ruin his shirt. She’s not wearing makeup or anything, so it should be okay - but if it’s a sensitive fabric…

“You have to tell him that,” he says, pulling away. He goes to close the door. “And you need to let him know he shouldn’t have put you into that situation.”

Rachel thinks about Quinn now.

Rachel considers herself incredibly in tune with her emotions. It’s what makes her such a great actress. She knows happy and angry, frightened and brave, content and sad. Right now she’s unbearably sad.

Sad despite the letter from NYADA, and sad despite being proposed to. Rachel was never supposed to feel sad during either of these moments.

_Are we always going to be friends? Is that what you think?_

The way Quinn had said it, the dullness in her eyes and how Rachel could see nothing but her own reflection in that moment. It’s painful. It’s more than sad. It hurts, Rachel feels it in her stomach, she feels it in her heart and in her head. She can even feel it in her bones. Rachel thinks about what Quinn said just before that. _What exactly is everything._

What is Quinn to Rachel; and why did that hurt so badly?

And now Rachel knows that she can’t marry Finn; but a part of the reason she can’t marry him is because of Quinn. This has always felt like choosing between them, and Rachel hasn’t quite understood why until now. It’s _still_ not something she completely understands, and it’s not even something she feels completely comfortable talking about right now with Kurt.

It’s a feeling. No. It’s several feelings, feelings that might go deeper than friendship. Feelings that stopped Rachel from kissing Quinn during a stupid game of truth or dare.

Rachel sniffles and wipes her eyes.

“Rachel?” Rachel looks up to see Finn staring at her as he comes out from the hallway. “What’s wrong?”

Kurt glares at him quickly, and then looks back at Rachel. “I’ll be out here, okay?”

Rachel nods at him and then turns to Finn. He smiles, and she tries to return it, but can’t completely. She walks down to the hallway.

“What’s up?” he says with a short, uncomfortable laugh. “You’re not wearing the ring…”

“Can we talk?”

He sighs. “Not exactly what I wanted to hear, but,” another laugh.

They go into the bedroom.

“So, uh, what’s up,” he says, clapping his hands together and sitting down on the bed.

Rachel doesn’t sit. Instead she wrings her own hands together before taking the ring out of her pocket. She holds it out. “Finn-”

“No,” he says, almost disbelieving, but his voice is firm. “I don’t want it back. I- just think about it longer.” He smiles and it feels too boyish for the moment they’re having. Too adolescent for marriage. It grounds Rachel further in her decision.

“Finn we can’t get married. We can’t be engaged,” she stresses.

“Why?” he says, voice getting slightly louder. Finn stands up. “Why can’t we? Rachel-” he grabs both of her hands. “I don’t want to be with anyone else. Ever. And we don’t have to get married right away. I can wait. We can wait however long we need to.”

Rachel looks him in the eyes. She doesn’t know if she feels the same. She isn’t sure of much right now other than the fact that she’s going to be a star one day. She’s going to New York, and she’s going to belong there. Rachel isn’t sure if the same is true of Finn. She isn’t sure if she only wants to be with him forever. And she might have said as much days ago, but then Quinn sounded so sad, and Rachel felt a piece of her heart break.

She can’t feel overly idealistic about this anymore. Not when her and Finn have been on different directions all year, maybe since they first even met.

She pulls away from him. “Finn, I’m going to New York after this. And you…” she doesn’t even know anymore. The army? Something else?

“I can go to New York,” he says, but his eyes flit to behind Rachel’s head and his voice shakes.

“Is that what you want?”

“We could work things out long distance at first. It doesn’t have to be all figured out right away. Not everything has to be perfect, Rachel.”

“For me it does, Finn,” she says heatedly. Her voice is thick, eyes starting to brim with tears. “I want my engagement to be perfect. I want my wedding to be perfect. I don’t think it’s wrong for me to want that!” _Everyone wants that_, she thinks.

“Just say that you don’t think we have a future, then!” he shouts.

She shakes her head. “This isn’t fair, Finn.”

“I don’t see why we’re together now if you can’t even,” he stops and clenches his jaw.

Rachel stares at him, wiping the tear that’s started to fall from her right eye. “Maybe you’re right then,” she says, quietly. “Maybe we shouldn’t be together.” Maybe Quinn was right.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says quickly, reaching out. “Please just…don’t do this.”

Rachel swallows. Her heart is racing. She never imaged things turning out like this. She never even thought it was possible. “I need space, Finn. I need to think about my future.”

“You’re always thinking about your future,” he says.

“Don’t do this,” she says. “All year I’ve been thinking about you.”

“No you haven’t! You’ve thought about NYADA and Quinn.” He stops. “Is this about what happened with Quinn earlier?”

“Finn, stop.”

“I just need an explanation!” he says. “All of a sudden you want to break up. It just doesn’t make sense!”

“You haven’t been thinking about me!” she says back. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have…” She closes her eyes and breathes in, gripping her hand tightly around the ring so that she can feel the press of the stone against her palm.

“I always think about you,” he says. “I feel like everything I do revolves around you, and you’re never happy.”

She shakes her head. “That isn’t true.”

“What did Quinn say?”

“This isn’t about Quinn,” Rachel says. “We’ve been fighting constantly for the past five months.”

“Don’t - can you just…” He lets his hands fall completely to his sides. “Can we talk about this?”

“We are talking.” She grabs his hand and gives him back the ring. When he doesn’t take it, Rachel watches as it falls to the ground.

“You’re making a mistake.”

Rachel bites her lip. She thinks about saying something else, but her heart is too heavy and brain too muddled with opposing thoughts. She’s scared that she _is_ making a mistake, she’s scared of being alone, she’s scared of change, and she’s scared of Finn never speaking to her again. But a part of her also knows that this has been coming for a long time, whether or not she wanted to admit it.

Rachel walks out and the second she closes the door behind her she begins to cry hard. So hard she can’t keep walking. Rachel settles her back against the wall and slides down to the floor. Her chest hurts.

She’s still unbearably sad. She’s losing Finn, and she might be losing Quinn - all together it’s too much to bear. Rachel only looks up at the sound of footsteps approaching her. It’s Kurt.

He smiles down at her. “It’s a good thing you didn’t wear mascara today,” he comments.

Rachel sniffles and laughs a little. Her head is starting to hurt from crying so much.

Kurt holds out his hand for Rachel to grab. “Told my dad I was going to sleepover at your place tonight,” he says. “You should probably tell your dads.”

Rachel nods and takes his hand to get up.

* * *

“What would you have done?” Rachel asks when they’re in the middle of a movie. They’ve been watching _New Moon_ together, in silence for the most part. Every once in a while one of them will comment - like when Jacob took off his shirt.

“Edward is cute, but by this point-” Kurt starts.

“I meant about…” Rachel drifts off. Her mind has been largely removed from the on-goings of the movie, and she’s more-so been thinking about the day she’s had. “If Blaine proposed, what would you have done?” It isn’t the first time she’s asked this question today; but she never got an answer.

Kurt purses his lips and looks at her. “I would say no, Rachel. Don’t torture yourself over making the right decision.”

Rachel wraps her arms around her knees and sets her chin atop them. “Would you break up with him?”

He says nothing at first, and Rachel listens to the background of the TV. CGI wolves roam around the forest, and the ever tortured Bella looks - well - tortured. Edward has abandoned her; and that just makes Rachel think about what Quinn said earlier resulting in more sadness.

“It depends on why you broke up with him,” Kurt says. He looks at her and places his hand on her knee.

Rachel tilts her head towards him. Her chest feels heavy all over again and she thinks she’s about to start crying for the third time today. “At the start of this year I never saw myself breaking up with him. But…have you ever started looking at someone in a different way. Or looking at a feeling in a different way?” she asks. Now she’s talking about both Finn and Quinn.

She thought her and Finn’s relationship was perfect at the start, only to realize there were tiny things here and there that weren’t perfect. Little cracks that even she couldn’t put back together. Now Rachel wonders if she was just ignoring them. Rachel loves Finn, but not in the same way she did when they first started dating. She can’t sacrifice parts of herself to stay by his side. She definitely can’t _marry_ him.

And then there is Quinn. Rachel’s always been fascinated with Quinn. There has always been something about her, and now that Rachel’s gotten close she can’t let what they’ve built slip away. But there is a connection that Rachel doesn’t completely understand. Why has she always been so fascinated with Quinn Fabray?

“Did you know that at the beginning of sophomore year I lied and said I was in love with you,” Kurt says. He snorts in laughter at the brief surprise on Rachel’s face. “I actually had a crush on Finn. We all know how that turned out.”

Rachel blinks a few times and then nods.

“Do you think I have a crush on Finn now?” he asks.

Rachel crinkles her nose a bit. “No?”

“There’s your answer then,” he says.

“Okay, but let’s get back to you being in love with me,” Rachel says, jokingly.

He rolls his eyes and tosses a pillow in her general direction. “I don’t know if I would break up with Blaine. We have a different relationship; but no one can blame you for the way that you feel,” he says. “Unless, of course, you were planning on saying yes to his proposal. Then I would absolutely blame you for the way that you feel because that’s insane.”

She laughs under her breath. “It wasn’t that far fetched. Plenty of people get engaged at this age,” she defends mildly.

“Yeah…maybe in the 80’s. Honey, you have to know that it was never a good idea.”

“I know,” she admits. A part of her wanted to get swept up in some fairy tale romance; even if she didn’t really feel like a fairy tale princess. “Hey,” she then says, “I mean this in a completely non heterosexual context; but if we kissed would it feel wrong?”

Kurt looks at Rachel like she’s got three heads. “You know I wasn’t actually in love with you, right? As pretty and talented as you are-”

“I know, Kurt,” she says. She’s thinking about the way she felt when she almost kissed Quinn. She doesn’t think she would have felt the same if it had been Kurt. “I mean if it was a dare - would it feel wrong?”

Kurt’s lips part into a perfect _o_. “Is this about…” he stops and shuts his mouth. His eyes narrow in on her for a moment, and Rachel knows what he’s thinking. She wants him to answer the question. Instead he leans in very close to Rachel’s face. She can smell his skin moisturizer. Something with a honey base. When she feels his breath, there is no heat that rises to her face. Her heart doesn’t speed up. “This is kind of uncomfortable, but did you get your answer?” he asks, pulling away.

Rachel nods.

“Also your t-zones are drying out. You’re using too much toner.”

* * *

**eight days before regionals**

As Rachel walks down the hall at school the next day, Kurt the only man by her side, she notices familiar blond hair. Her heart stops, and so do her feet.

Kurt looks at her and then up ahead. “Oh,” he murmurs. “I see the peroxide fairy went to someone’s house last night - though not in tandem with the Vogue fairy. I swear that Quinn can sometimes be just as tragic as you when it comes to - Rachel, you there?”

Rachel stares at the profile. It feels like sophomore year for a moment, and then Rachel remembers everything that happened yesterday. The not one, but _two_ fights she had. She can’t be focused on this. Regionals is only days away and they need to go to Nationals this year. Stress is bad for her psyche, and so is anger, and so is fear. Right now she’s feeling a torrid combination of all three.

“Anyways Kurt, I’ll see you later,” Rachel says, quickly.

“Rachel?” he hisses after her, watching as she makes quick for homeroom.

More than anything, Rachel is hurt.

_Are we always going to be friends? Is that what you think?_

Yes, Rachel thinks. Of course she thinks that, why wouldn’t she, why would Quinn even say something like that?

Rachel shakes her head. 

Regionals. She’ll deal with this promptly after Regionals.

* * *

There’s a major change that Rachel quickly notices throughout the last two days of the week; in part due to her breakup. They aren’t avoiding each other, but they’re also not actively seeking one another out. Most of the interactions come during rehearsals - never direct, and always in passing.

The other, almost overwhelming change comes from Quinn. She’s blond again, and a Cheerio again - and it’s actually physically painful to not know where the change came from. It’s painful not talking. She misses Quinn even though it’s only been a couple days.

Every time she remembers how much she misses Quinn, she then remembers their conversation.

_People grow apart._

And it hurts. It hurts more than anything because she absolutely hates Quinn’s implication that they’ll grow apart. She can’t imagine not knowing Quinn, and she doesn’t want to imagine it, and she’s actually scared that Quinn feels differently. She’s afraid to confront her.

Rachel has always been the rip off the band aid type; but this feels different. So maybe she’s avoided Quinn. Just a little, and just so she can focus on Regionals for the time being.

After Regionals they’ll talk.

* * *

**five days before regionals**

An hour after getting home, Rachel’s doorbell rings.

It’s Quinn on Rachel’s doorstep. Rachel looks through the peephole for what seems like a good 15 seconds, simply staring. Quinn looks up, hands in her pockets. She shifts her weight between feet and then rings the doorbell again. Rachel jumps back a little, and then straightens herself out.

She can talk to Quinn, and the world won’t end. But she’s getting steadily more anxious as she reaches for the door knob. It feels ridiculous. Unlike her. She’s never been afraid of any type of confrontation, in fact she lives for the dramatics of confrontation. She takes a breath and opens the door.

“Quinn,” she chirps, smiling too broadly.

“I’ve called you like four times this week,” Quinn says. She looks down and then back up quickly. “I wanted to give you, I don’t know, space or something-” she stops. “It’s kind of cold out here,” she says.

Rachel takes a step back. “Right,” she says, shaking her head, “Come in.”

“Thanks,” Quinn says, walking in.

“I’ve been rehearsing a lot for Regionals,” Rachel says.

“I’ve texted.

She texted Rachel, “_hey_,” one day.

“Anyways, can we talk?” Quinn says.

Rachel nods and starts heading towards her room, noting the light footsteps behind her. “I like your hair,” she says, still looking forward. She’s been wanting to say that for days.

“Thanks.”

Rachel opens the door, and Quinn comes up from behind her. When Rachel turns, they’re face to face. Quinn’s eyes widen a little, and Rachel stills completely only to take a small step forward to close the door.

Rachel walks back to her bed and sits down, studying Quinn while she looks all around Rachel’s bedroom. Quinn’s eyes narrow in towards one of the pictures on her wall. “You have a picture of me,” she says.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Quinn’s eyes furrow. “It’s just of me.”

“I have pictures of a lot of people,” Rachel defends.

Quinn bites her lip as she gives a small smile. “Why do you…” she starts. “I was awful to you, and you wanted to be my friend.”

Rachel blinks a few times, confused. “This is what you wanted to talk about?”

Quinn shakes her head. “No. I just…why?”

“I’ve always wanted to be your friend,” Rachel says. She’s always watched Quinn. The pretty, blond cheerleader. “There were so many times where I thought about that at the beginning of high school. And I never thought it would actually happen, but…”

“You’re kind of crazy,” Quinn says with a short laugh.

“Why are you here?”

“Someone told me that not getting sleep hurt your vocal range, and I figured with Regionals coming up-”

“What did you mean earlier this week?” Rachel says sharply. “When you said people grow apart, what did that mean?”

Quinn looks up, eyes widened now like it was the last thing she expected Rachel to say.

“Because if it means what I think it does…if you think that after high school we’re just not going to talk anymore, or be friends - then - then I want you to take it back.”

“Rachel,” she says quickly. “It’s not going to be like high school where we see each other most days. Everyone is going to be busy, most of us aren’t going to be close.”

“You’re special to me, Quinn,” Rachel says. Quinn once again freezes, seemingly at a loss for words. She looks into Quinn’s eyes. In some ways she understands what Quinn is saying. It’s something she has thought about. But they have phones and trains and cars. Rachel will never be busy enough to forget about Quinn. “And if you don’t think we’re going to talk after high school, if we’re not going to be friends anymore - then why are you here?”

Quinn tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes flickering down and then up quickly. “I wanted to talk to you,” she says, and then swallows. “I missed you.”

Rachel’s heart feels like it stops. It’s such a small thing, and yet…

“Then take it back,” Rachel says.

Quinn lets out a shaky breath. She sets her jaw and purses her lips. “Fine,” she says. “I take it back.”

Rachel stands up. “You take it back?”

“I take it back.”

Rachel sighs in relief and smiles. “Then can I hug you because I’ve had a very long, very emotional week,” she says. “And I missed you too.”

Quinn smiles back and gives a little roll of her eyes before nodding and gesturing her arms outward. Rachel takes the invitation and wraps her arms around Quinn, resting her head on Quinn’s shoulder. She still isn’t completely used to the blond hair, and without thinking, she gently combs a hand through her hair.

“I really do like your hair,” she says. Quinn smells nice. Like soap. And her hair feels nice, and her body is warm, and lithe. Rachel doesn’t want to let go.

“Couldn’t keep the pink forever,” Quinn says, laughing.

Rachel feels a hand on come rest against her back and can’t help but want Quinn to hold on a little tighter. “Don’t say anything like that again,” Rachel says. She pulls away and looks at Quinn seriously now. She honestly can’t stay mad at Quinn, but Rachel doesn’t know if she could handle the feeling of Quinn slipping away once again.

Quinn nods slowly. “Okay,” she says, eyes roaming all over Rachel’s face.

Rachel thinks about Kurt coming in close to her. It feels different from now. Very different. The way Rachel’s heart is beating is different. Quinn pulls away from her and she can feel the loss immediately.

Quinn sits on Rachel’s bed. “So tell me all about this week,” she says.

“Well, apart from the breakup,” Rachel says, “I got a callback letter from NYADA. I wanted to tell everyone in New Directions after Regionals, but-”

“That’s amazing, Rachel,” Quinn says, a wide and stunning smile on her face.

“Yeah,” she says. “It’s pretty amazing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will probably not be able to update next week. happy new years everyone. thank u for reading faberry fanfiction in 2019 and hopefully 2020


	15. boring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this update took soooo long. Jan/Feb are just very busy months for me; and this chapter is also pretty long in comparison to the others.

**first week of last summer**

It was a different kind of boring. Quinn was so bored that she didn’t even think bored was the word for it. Just like spectacular wasn’t a replacement for good. It was the kind of boring that didn’t even make sense; she was bored no matter what she did. She worked out and she was bored, she met with Santana and Brittany and she was bored, she tried to read and she was bored.

So Quinn tried doing something else. She tried doing absolutely nothing. She stared up at the ceiling and played music and just continued to stare. No matter how much she looked at the ceiling, it didn’t change. It was still her ceiling, absolutely nothing different about it.

There was something comforting about that. A small comfort in a long wave of nauseating boredom.

The worst part was that Quinn couldn’t even be angry. She really wanted to be angry, but she didn’t have the energy for it. Quinn’s anger was a comfort in itself, though not nearly as calming as her ceiling. Her anger made her move, it made her do things; now she just had nothing.

The only thing Quinn could really feel was sad, and that was only when she thought of certain things, dwelled too much. Even the sadness had dimmed at some point, leaving her feeling vacant. Empty. Bored.

Quinn lay, looking up at her ceiling. She could count the spots and see little things within them. Sometimes it was nothing. Clouds, flowers, a short man with a crown and cape. Sometimes it was Rachel Berry, but only if she squinted. When that happened she would usually close her eyes for five seconds and stop looking for patterns.

When she didn’t close her eyes she would laugh. Rachel was so annoying she even managed to get inside of Quinn’s ceiling. She would laugh, but it wouldn’t be funny. She’d be sad. A sadness that was even worse than the maddening boredom.

She was Quinn Fabray, and she felt like nothing. All those years of high school, all the pushing to be at the top, all the cruelty; and none of it really paid off because on her last summer as a teenager, she felt like a shell. Not of her former self, that would be too generous. She was an object, something that just exists. It didn’t matter that she was Quinn Fabray.

Nothing mattered.

* * *

**four days before regionals**

Something Quinn learned over time was how to count how many times her heart beat in a minute. She learned the summer after 8th grade when she was trying (and succeeding) at losing weight. By no means was it healthy, and Quinn is only vaguely conscious of that now.

A higher heart rate meant higher calorie burn. She needed to be working out at at least 170 bpm. She would gauge her heart speeding up. One jumping jack took 1.5 seconds, and her heart beat 3 times in that interval; that was only 120 bpm - so she had to push that even more.

Pushing felt like death. Her chest would physically ache to the point of it hurting to breath; but once she reached that point she was at 170.

Right now she’s at around 180 bpm. She needs to breathe, but every time she sucks in air it fills her lungs too much and she has to let it out once again. Light streams of perspiration are rolling down her face, she’s pretty sure even her eyes are sweating. It feels like she just dunked her entire body into a hot tub, and judging by that same searing heat on her cheeks - Quinn has an idea of just how red her face is.

She’s smiling widely, teeth flashing up towards the ceiling and eyes open and eager.

Quinn is at the bottom of the pyramid, holding up Cindy, whose right foot is twitching in her left palm. Cindy’s about to slip, and she just hopes that she doesn’t fall directly on top of Quinn. Coach Sue is going to make them hold this for at least another minute.

Quinn silently wishes she never started smoking. Things like this used to be nothing to her, and now she wants to collapse to the ground along with Cindy. It doesn’t help that Coach Sue has had Quinn do double the warm up exercises.

Coach Sue stares at her, then narrows her eyes and looks up. Quinn thinks she’s looking at Cindy, but can’t quite tell until Coach Sue calls out Cindy's name.

“Yes Coach Sue?” Cindy chirps in between heavy pants.

“That smile is terrible. You look like a Walmart cashier.”

_Shit_. Quinn can feel Cindy starting to lose her balance.She grips the sole of her shoe harder, trying to keep her in place. “Jessica,” Quinn murmurs to the girl holding Cindy’s other foot. “Grip tighter, she’s going to fall.”

Coach Sue looks at her again. Quinn doesn’t think she stopped smiling. She’s become pretty good at saying things without moving her mouth. Ventriloquism might not be a bad backup career for any of them.

Cindy wobbles slightly, and Quinn moves her hand up her leg carefully from behind so she can grip her calf.

After a pained 54 seconds, Couch Sue finally throws her hands up. “Alright, enough. Break for 90 seconds.”

Quinn’s pyramid collapses, as does the one Santana and Brittany are in. This year Coach Sue has them doing a dueling dragons theme with two main pyramids instead of one. It involves a swap between the two pyramids tops.

“She’s gonna move you up,” Santana says in between sips of water. Quinn is guzzling hers.

“Of course she is,” Quinn says. She wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb, aware of the water now dripping down her lip. Quinn would consider herself one of the best high school cheerleaders in the country. While it’s not exactly easy to be on the Cheerios, Quinn has the talent, experience and face to beat everyone in the Cheerios (except, if she’s being honest, maybe Santana). Coach Sue let her back on so easily because she knew that, and more than anything Coach Sue wants to win Nationals this year. “Nervous I’ll take your spot?” Quinn asks.

Santana rolls her eyes. “Like you could, stretch marks. Oh. Your girlfriend is here,” Santana says as Quinn tilts more water up into her mouth. She glances over and sees Rachel only a few steps inside of the gym.

It’s not an unusual site. In times when they’ve practice along side the football team and basketball team, Quinn would sometimes see Rachel sneak in quickly to see Finn. But at the moment, Rachel is very clearly walking towards Quinn.

A couple girls start to mumble when they notice Rachel, but no one is paying that much attention. Quinn fumbles with her water bottle before setting it down on the floor and standing up.

Rachel prances forward, one foot right in front of the other as she makes her way over to Quinn.

Quinn lifts her left hand and gives a weak wave. She tries to monitor how hard she’s breathing now because the last thing she wants to do is dry heave in front of Rachel.

“Hi,” Rachel says quickly with a short wave back. She’s got a bottle in her other hand. She does a quick once over of the gym and then tenses her jaw and squares her shoulders.

Every single person in this gym has bullied Rachel at some point, and unlike the other times Rachel has come to gym, Finn is no longer by her side.

“What’s up,” Quinn says, as smoothly as she can. Her chest feels like it’s shaking but only from the inside.

Rachel hands over the bottle. “Water with lemon, lime, cucumber, grated ginger, and b12. Oh, and apple cider vinegar.”

Quinn wrinkles her nose. “Uh. Thanks?”

“I drink it before I rehearse most days. Great for your vocals and general revitalization. I actually got it from a gastronomy magazine I was reading years ago whilst attempting to learn about vegan substitutions. It’s never failed me. I thought it would help since you’re getting into,” she gestures her hands to behind Quinn. “All of this.”

Quinn's heart spikes quickly even though she's barely moved. She takes the bottle. “Probably what I needed,” Quinn says. She lets up for a moment, sucking in a deep breath. “This is kind of killing me,” she says under her breath, so that only Rachel can hear her.

“Well, I’m sure you’re doing the best.”

Quinn starts to stretch out her arm. She’s got 30 seconds left of break. “Of course,” she says.

“I miss seeing you like this.”

“In a Cheerio’s outfit?” Quinn asks with a short laugh.

Rachel rolls her eyes. “I mean, yes, but…” she trails off, eyes falling to the floor for a moment. Not out of shyness, but mostly Rachel seems confused by her own statement. “You just seem a little happier.”

Quinn blushes, but it’s probably not noticeable with how red she already is. “I wouldn’t think you would have any positive thoughts about Cheerios uniforms,” she says.

Rachel weights her head left to right. “Depends on whose wearing it.”

“Wrap it up, Thelma and Louis,” Coach Sue calls out, unnecessarily loud with the megaphone still echoing across the gym.

“I’ll see you later?” Quinn calls out.

“Yep!”

Quinn stretches out her arms more as she begins to walk towards the team, rolling her head from her right shoulder to left shoulder. She’s still pretty limber, luckily.

“Hey, I was eaves dropping and heard the whole thing,” Santana murmurs.

“That was really gay, Quinn,” Brittany then says walking on the other side of Quinn.

“Gayest thing I’ve seen all weak, and I’ve been watching _The Real L Word_,” Santana adds.

Quinn ignores them and walks over towards Cindy while they start to form the pyramid.

“Stop,” Coach Sue calls out. “Cinder, switch places with Fabray. You’ve looked utterly flaccid all practice.”

Quinn smiles as she makes her way towards Cindy’s spot, not bothering to hide her satisfaction even when Cindy looks at her.

* * *

**second week of last summer**

When Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday had streamlined into one elongated period of time; Quinn decided to go to the record store.

They only had one in Lima, Ohio. _O_ was the name of it. Nothing flashy, just _O_. The only reason people knew it was a record shop was the giant record sign with a single red _O_ in the middle of it, hence the name: _O_.

Quinn always liked going to _O_. Partly because it could shut down at any moment given how little business it really got. One day it’d be here, and another day off the map entirely. She also liked how stale it was inside. The maroon shag carpet, and the black racks with disorganized CDs. Hand drawn signs on vibrant, colorful paper that said things like: _Buy 6 CD’s get 1 half off!_ And _You’re being watched on camera!_ The store owner only had two other employees, and Quinn knew both of their faces.

There was something to said about comfort in familiarity. _O’s_ was dusty and dingy, but she knew it. She knew where _Classic Rock_ was, and she knew where _Pop_ was, and she even knew where _Reggae_ was.

Quinn also liked looking at all the music. Buy an album every once in a while.

She was looking down at a hits album of Sam Cooke when the bell to the door sounded. She didn’t turn her head because she didn’t really care who was coming in. Then she heard that irritating voice.

“And I’m thinking that on the days we do go, we could dress up in some summeresque outfits. Something matching.”

“Uh huh. Wait, what?”

“Wait…Quinn?”

Quinn turned around. She had to leave.

Rachel stared at her from across the shop, her feet firmly planted on the carpet.

Quinn rolled her shoulders back and squared her jaw. “Hey.”

“Hey…Quinn,” said Finn.

Quinn looked back down at the CDs just so she didn’t have to keep looking at Rachel.

Rachel was the reason she was there. After looking at nothing but the wall for days, she’d starting to unconsciously think about Rachel more and more. And now Quinn was practically wide-eyed and panicking in front of Rachel. Her heart was hammering, easily within her target zone.

It didn’t make sense. Feeling this way just didn’t make sense.

Quinn walked towards the exit, but then Finn walked closer;one hand in his pocket, the other’s in Rachel’s.

“How’s your summer been?” Rachel asked.

“It just started,” she said and started to make her way closer to the door.

And then Mark - one of the store’s three employee’s and also a member of the football team - called out her name. Quinn turned her head slightly to face him. “You going to Caleb’s party next week?” he asked.

“Dunno.”

“Caleb’s having a party?” Finn asked.

Mark’s face slackened slightly. “Oh. Yeah, Finn. But I’m gonna be honest. Probably best for you not to come.”

It was getting increasingly awkward.

“What, why?”

Mark then looked towards Rachel quickly. "Later?” he asked Quinn.

“Doubtful,” Quinn said before turning. For some ungodly reason though, she stopped before exiting the shop. She turned towards Rachel, only a tiny bit, and said: “It’s probably gonna be lame anyways.”

At Rachel’s small smile, Quinn gave one back. It was so stupid.

“I’ll see you Quinn,” Rachel said.

Quinn turned around once more. “Once again: Doubtful,” she said, and then left.

Why did she want to make Rachel feel better? Why did she feel any of these things about her.

She hated Rachel.

Except she didn’t.

* * *

**three days before regionals**

She never gave back the bottle.

Quinn’s only noticing now after getting home from school. The bottle Rachel gave her yesterday with that god awful concoction that Quinn drank in its entirety.

The bottle sitting on her counter by the sink, cleaned and dried.

When she saw Rachel earlier, Rachel didn’t bring it up. She’d been too focused on rehearsal and not making eye-contact with Finn.

Quinn pulls out her phone.

**Quinn:** _I have ur bottle_

**Rachel:** _Oh_

**Quinn:** _want me to bring it to you_

_ **Rachel is typing…** _

**Rachel:** _yes_?

Quinn smiles to herself as she goes to grab the bottle.

“Hey Quinn,” Sam says as she’s walking out of the kitchen. “Can I borrow your car?”

“Nope. Later.”

15 minutes later Rachel is opening the door for her. Quinn hands over the bottle before stepping inside.

“You don’t need to use a bottle as an excuse to come over,” Rachel says with a cutesy smile that’s so over the top it makes Quinn roll her eyes. “I was just doing some rehearsing.”

“Were you busy?” Quinn asks.

“Nope. Actually in need of an assistant.”

Quinn laughs under her breath. “Assistant or audience?” she asks while following Rachel towards her bedroom.

“Both.”

“Why would I ever assume the amazing Rachel Berry would ever want something else.”

Rachel turns towards her and smiles. “I’ll take that as a compliment because you called me amazing.”

“Fine, but I’m limiting you to one a day,” Quinn says.

Rachel opens the door to her room, and Quinn follows her in. “What about ten?”

“Three.”

“So, you’ll help me?”

Quinn closes the door behind her and nods. “Sure. Don’t exactly know what you’re doing, though. Regionals?”

Rachel crosses her room to make her way towards her speaker. “Regionals and NYADA auditions. I need to stand out. Make an impression that’s entirely unforgettable.”

Quinn sits down at the chair by her desk. “You stand out plenty,” she says. “Sometimes too much.”

“That’s two,” Rachel says in reference to the compliment. Though Quinn wasn’t really thinking about it like that. “And you didn’t see them at that mixer. They were great, Quinn,” she says.

Quinn bites her tongue before she can actually compliment Rachel. “I’m not trying to bolster your ego or anything, but we both know how well you can perform,” she says. “It’s never been hard for you to stand out, Rachel, and if it has, you do a good job of hiding it.”

Rachel looks up at her. Her face is blank at first. After a slow second she smiles and then looks down at her ipod. The speaker ticks as she scrolls through what Quinn imagines to be an extensive collection of music. “Maybe I should learn some new moves,” she says as she sets her ipod down. She lifts up a clenched fist and begins to shake it. “How’d you think I’d fit in on the Cheerios?” she asks, still shaking her hand. Quinn thinks it’s supposed to emulate a pompom.

“You’d have to take some more slushies to the face,” Quinn says with a short laugh.

“Doesn’t being a Cheerio mean automatic popularity?”

“I meant from the team,” Quinn clarifies. When Rachel frowns, Quinn says, “I’m kidding. Well, kind of.” She wasn’t kidding. They’d try to bully Rachel off the team any chance they got. Quinn would defend her, and maybe even Santana and Brittany depending on the circumstances - but they wouldn’t always be around. Rachel can of course handle her own, but Quinn hates the idea of her being tormented any more.

“I auditioned,” Rachel says. “Freshman year. I didn’t get in, obviously. There were some comments made…about my nose.”

Quinn’s stomach sinks. She remembers her own audition. There had been two. A screening audition held by the old captain, and then a second audition where the captain and coach Sue watched. Sabrina Tesler was her name. She was terrible. Blonde, blue eyes, pretty - and absolutely terrible. Quinn actually copied a good deal of her demeanor her freshman year.

“Those girls are mean. I used to be the worst,” Quinn says, looking down. “But it’s only because it’s so obvious you’re going places. The most they can hope for is getting a rich husband. They’re jealous. Even if they don’t know it.”

Rachel grins. “You’re at three,” she says.

Quinn rolls her eyes. “If I say you’re annoying does that subtract one.”

“You’re the one who put these restrictions on yourself, Quinn,” Rachel says. She looks back at her ipod. “I don’t know what to play.”

Quinn bites her lip. “I haven’t been to _O_ in a while. Wanna go?”

“That sounds perfect,” Rachel says, smiling widely.

* * *

**third week of last summer**

Quinn had not planned on going to the party. She wasn’t lying to Rachel when she said it would be lame. All high school parties were lame. And while Quinn had only been to one college party, that wasn’t much better.

She didn’t like drinking much; didn’t like the loss of control, the bad decisions, the anger. She also didn’t like loud, rowdy boys running around half naked. She didn’t like the party snacks. She didn’t like boys coming too close to her and breathing down her neck.

But when Quinn had been in her room, all she could think about was Rachel and all the feelings that surrounded Rachel. None of it was right, and it made her angry. Angrier than alcohol made her. It made her sad and even desperate. It made her want to wake up from a nightmare. It made her want to lie down, stare at her ceiling, and think about nothing. It made her like being bored.

Quinn went to a party because she wanted to forget Rachel. She wanted to be bored. Or angry over something new.

Quinn tilted the last of her _Four Loko_ back, gagging at the aftertaste that could be described as gasoline with grape _Kool-Aid_ mixed in. Another thing she absolutely hated was that high school parties never had any type of decent alcohol. Quinn didn’t drink much, but she knew that _Four Loko’s_ were a far fall down from her dad’s malt scotch, and mom’s red wines.

“Woah, Quinn,” came a voice from behind her. She turned around to see Puck. “Did not expect to see you here.”

“Please, shut up,” Quinn said, slurring slightly. She wasn’t totally drunk, but she was feeling fuzzy.

“So hot when you’re mean,” he said. He leaned closer and grabbed Quinn’s empty can. “Want another one?”

Quinn rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Bring back something that doesn’t taste like backwash.”

“You got it babe,” he said.

Quinn curled her lip in disgust before straightening herself out entirely. She was supposed to want that type of thing. Or maybe not exactly that, but she was supposed to have an interest. She was supposed to feel a way abut Puck and Finn and Sam. She wanted to, but it was never there.

Quinn clenched her fist almost hoping that there was something in her hand to break. Closing her hand tightly wasn’t enough. Quinn jerked her hand back, breaking her fist into the wall.

“Fuck,” she hissed, pulling her fist out to her mouth. She looked up, only to notice that no one was paying her attention. The music was so loud, Quinn didn’t even hear the thud of contact. She looked back down at her hand. Blood was smeared over her knuckles, but not a lot of it. It was something she could hide if she just left now.

Puck came back with the drink. A Mike’s Hard Lemonade now. “Holy shit what’d you do,” he whispered. “I leave for a second and you hulk out?”

“No you idiot. It was an accident.”

Puck looked down at Quinn’s hand. He then took off his jacket and started to wipe off the blood. When he was all done he put his jacket over his shoulder, but still continued to caress Quinn’s knuckles.

She should have felt something. When he leaned in, Quinn should have wanted him to keep leaning in.

It wasn’t fair that she felt nothing. With his lips just an inch away from her own. She didn’t want Puck, and she never would.

As she stared up at Puck, it was only by some sort of miracle that she noticed dark, brown hair behind him.

“Stop,” Quinn said.

“Huh?”

She moved him off of her and walked forward. Rachel. It had to be Rachel, and Quinn had to talk to her. To ask her what the fuck was happening. She had to do this for her own sanity.

Quinn put her hand on Rachel’s shoulder and turned her around. It wasn’t Rachel.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Not Rachel asked.

She looked mean, and Quinn knew mean. But Quinn didn’t care about that. She walked away.

“Hey, I asked you a fucking question,” the girl said from across from the kitchen.

Quinn turned. “Well I don’t have a fucking answer.” She staggered slightly, and then straightened out.

“What, bitch?”

“I don’t think I stuttered,” Quinn said with a hiccup. “If you’re too incon-incompetent to understand that, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

Quinn did not expect the girl to start running through the kitchen. She didn’t anticipate the punch to the face. But Quinn was strong, and she could punch to. She wanted to punch this girl. She was having a really bad week.

In the end the fight was broken up by two guys on the hockey team.

“That was fucking awesome,” Puck said as he walked her outside. “You’ve got a mean right hook, Quinn.”

Quinn didn’t find it funny. It was embarrassing. Stupid.

What the hell was happening to her?

* * *

**three days before regionals**

“So I have an idea,” Rachel says as they enter the store. “Thought of it on the car ride.”

“Thought of an idea while singing to every song on the radio? Impressive,” Quinn says dryly. “What’s the idea?”

“You pick out something for me. I need to sing something different. I need to listen to something different. I’ve been stuck in this creative rut when it comes to performing.” She twists her hands together and looks around.

Quinn remembers being here over summer.

Did the creative rut come from her breakup with Finn? Rachel hasn’t talked much about it, at least not to Quinn. She hasn’t seemed too different, or too depressed. Quinn just hopes that it’s not an act. That she’s not just distracting herself with rehearsals.

“Any genre?” Quinn asks.

“No synth pop.”

Quinn laughs. “I’m not Mr. Schue,” she says as she starts to flip through the CDs. They’re in the rock/pop section now. Nothing that Quinn can find is giving her _Rachel_.

Rachel is looking through the A-D section in front of her, while Quinn is looking through L-P.

“Do you like Lana Del Rey?” Rachel asks, stopping on Born to Die.

Quinn shrugs. “Yeah. I like the atmosphere in her music.” Some of it reminds of her older jazz. “Why?”

“I wish she sang more,” Rachel says, now moving on to another CD. “If I had her songs, I would sing them.”

Quinn chuckles under her breath. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“I’m right! It’s all so much moaning. And poor articulation, too.”

Quinn shakes her head and scans the store to see the oldies isle. “I’m gonna go over there, okay.”

“No synth pop, Quinn.”

“I got it.” She doesn’t even listen to synth pop. But she does have an idea, if the store still has what she’s looking for.

She moves towards the back and heads for _S_ in the oldies/classics section. It’s there. “Got it,” she calls out to Rachel, picking up the CD; Best of Sam Cooke

“And what is it that you have?”

Quinn hands it over. “First track.”

“Nothing Can Change This Love?”

Quinn nods, smiling faintly. “My dad used to sing it to me when I was a baby. Or at least, that’s what my mom told me. I think you’d sound good.”

“Your… dad?” Rachel asks, looking down at the album.

“He’s a dick, but it’s still a good song,” Quinn says. She bites her lip. “I always thought about singing this to Beth when I was pregnant. Of course she wasn’t Beth then, she wasn’t anything, but…”

Rachel stares up to meet Quinn’s gaze. “Okay. But can we sing it together?”

“I thought this was a solo thing?”

“I’ve always liked singing with you,” Rachel says.

Quinn feels her cheeks reddening. “Okay. But tomorrow. I have to get home for dinner.”

“Tomorrow then.”

* * *

**third week of last summer**

Quinn needed to cool off so she didn’t go back inside, instead choosing to stay on the patio and stare into space. She shouldn’t have came to the party.

The door behind her creaked, but she didn’t look until she heard a strong, resounding, “Hey,” calling out to her. The girl she’d fought with was staring at her from inside of the door way.

“I’m not fighting with you anymore,” Quinn said.

“Good. You have a hard right hook.”

Quinn touched the bruise forming on her face and winced. You’re not so bad yourself,” she said.

The door closed as the girl walked forward. “Smoke?” she asked, taking out a pack of New Ports.

Quinn sighed. “Why not.” She didn’t care anymore. Was there really any point in caring when what she cared about was wrong?

The girl handed Quinn a cigarette and then lit it. “I’m The Mack,” she said.

Quinn inhaled, coughed and exhaled. “Don’t care.”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

She was drunk. Puck brought her something stronger earlier, and Quinn downed it within minutes. “Just don’t wanna be bothered.”

“You got issues. Anyways, I already know your name.”

“Great.”

“But you didn’t remember mine. You didn’t remember me at all.” The Mack laughed. “God you must be wrapped up in so much bullshit.”

“I knew you?” Quinn asked, squinting as she stared at the other girl.

“Pregnancy club sophomore year?”

Well. Quinn had forgotten about that. Her and a bunch of girls ended up getting together and singing This is a Man’s World.

Quinn only wished she could re-forget. “Oh. You’re that girl…” she said

“It’s easier not being a part of it, you know?” The Mack said as she exhaled a puff of smoke. “It’s all pointless. High School popularity and clubs and shit. And you’re all just falling for it like suckers.”

The taste of the cigarette wasn’t all that bad. “I didn’t come here for popularity. I came to be bored. Your presence isn’t really helping me.”

“Who’d you think I was?”

“Another girl.” Rachel Berry.

“The short loud mouth? Her voice makes me wanna put a grater to my ear.”

“Shut up,” Quinn said.

“She so bad that you’d rather be bored than think about her?”

Quinn clenched her jaw and rested her head back as she took a deep sigh. This was pissing her off, and her pacifism would only last for so much longer. The alcohol was making her feel stronger, meaner. “Can you please just fucking shut up?”

The Mack laughed. “It’s the opposite, huh? Maybe you don’t think Rachel’s so bad at all.” A cloud of smoke left her mouth as she grinned down at the ground, stomping out her cigarette.

Quinn didn’t know what she meant at that. Did this freak figure her out in just twenty minutes? Quinn reached out and grabbed her collar, then breathed in and let go. She couldn’t do this again. She was mad, but she wasn’t going to fight.

“Don’t freak out. I don’t give a shit,” the Mack said. “But if you start crying, I’m gonna hit you again. I hate crying.”

Quinn swallowed as she tensed her jaw. She dropped the cigarette and stomped it out. “I’m going home.”

The Mack sighed. “I’ll drive you.”

“What the hell do you want from me?” Quinn asked.

“Nothing. But you’re drunk and you got a kid.”

“She’s not mine.”

The Mack sighed. “Kay. Then go.”

She was right. Quinn was drunk. And she didn’t want to ride with Puck. “Let’s go.”

Once they were settled into the car, Quinn said, “You have a kid too.”

“Yeah. He’s at home being watched by his grandmother.”

“If none of it matters, then why go to a high school party?”

“To buy weed. Stop asking questions.”

Quinn’s house was close. There was only a few minutes of silence accompanied by the blow of the air conditioner. Quinn didn’t find it comforting.

“Thanks,” Quinn said, softly as they parked.

“You know that junkyard near the mall?” The Mack asked as Quinn opened the car door.

“Yeah.”

“We hang around there.”

* * *

**two days before regionals**

“You start off,” Rachel says.

“Why? Scared?”

“I’m trembling, Quinn,” she says with a smile. “But also I want to hear you, and once I start off I tend to focus less on what the other person is doing.”

Quinn chuckles as she ties her hair back. “Right. Okay…”

“Are you scared?”

“Start the song,” Quinn says.

The music starts and Quinn begins to think of her father. She wonders how exactly he looked at her when he sang, if it was tender and full of love. Now she can’t really fathom it, but there was a time when things were different. But he’s in the past now, and Quinn has no plans to fix that. 

Now she thinks of Beth. She’d never do to Beth what her mother and father did to her - even if she’s not her mother anymore. Quinn just knows that she could never do anything like that to her child. Her chest is heavy, stomach tight as she starts to sing. “If I go a million miles away, I’d write a letter,” she starts, and then stops. Her voice cracks. It’s painful to think about Beth hating her the way Quinn hates her dad. Even if she doesn’t really hate him. 

She wonders when his love became conditional. Maybe it was always conditional. If he knew about the person she was now, would he have sang that song to her?

Rachel steps in close to her and grabs her hand.

“Each and every day,” she finishes for Quinn, giving her hand a light squeeze.

Quinn feels a tear fall down her face, and her cheeks redden with embarrassment when she realizes she’s started to cry, but when she finally meets Rachel’s eyes it fades. Eyes that are a soft brown despite being incredibly dark. They’re shining, and it makes Quinn feel safe. Uncomfortable, but safe.

“Make me weak,” Quinn sings as she gathers herself, “And you can make me cry,” she laughs a bit at the last part, and then wipes her eyes.

Rachel smiles at her as they continue. They sing with one another and at each other simultaneously. Quinn can’t help but be captivated by Rachel, but she also loses herself. She sings it to Rachel, and thinks about Beth.

When it ends, Rachel continues to hold Quinn’s hand. Quinn can hear the heavy push of her own breath, can imagine her lungs filling with air and then releasing it. They look at each other, and Quinn’s heart goes fast. It’s rushing and she feels like she’s spilling over from all the emotions she feels. A sadness that’s not bitter, and a happiness that isn’t chipper.

“You should sing that to her,” Rachel says quietly. She squeezes Quinn’s hand again, looking down at it briefly, and then looking up. “I know it’s not my place, but I think you should. Even recording it and giving it to her…”

Quinn looks down at her hand. She likes seeing Rachel’s skin against hers even if she shouldn’t. “Shelby’s sent letters,” she says and swallows. “I haven’t replied. I don’t-I don’t even know what to say.”

“Look at me,” Rachel says. Quinn does. “You have so much to offer. Even if it’s just pieces of you, Beth will be lucky.”

“What if I end up messing up?” Quinn asks. “Or she gets to know me and realizes she hates me.”

“She’s your daughter,” Rachel says. “She’ll be smart, and kind, and she won’t hate you because you won’t mess up. Not like how your parents did,” Rachel says. “If she gets to know you; if she chooses that - then she’ll love you, okay?”

“What if she takes after Puck?”

Rachel looks genuinely horrified for a moment. “She won’t. You have strong genes.”

Quinn chuckles and rolls her eyes. “Strong genes?”

“I can tell. My eighth sense.”

“You’re so weird,” Quinn says. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

* * *

**fourth week of last summer**

Quinn went to the junkyard for the same reason she went to the party. She needed to leave her room so she could focus on something else.

It wasn’t hard to spot The Mack. There weren’t any other people just hanging around a junk yard.

She was accompanied by two other girls. They weren’t really doing much but sitting around and smoking.

Quinn contemplated leaving. Pulling away without a word. She didn’t though. For some reason she left her car and walked up to them.

“Quinn,” The Mack said. “Meet Ronnie and Sheila.” Neither of the girls looked up.

“This is lame,” Quinn said, looking around. There was a stench. A combination of the junk yard and one or two of the girls. It smelt like sweat and hot garbage. “You guys just come here and stand around?”

“You have the hots for the most irritating girl in the school, don’t be too quick to call something lame,” the Mack said.

Quinn’s face turned bright red as her heart began to pound. “You don’t know what the hell your talking about.”

“No one cares, so chill the fuck out.”

Sheila looked up. “You’re annoying me. Mack she’s annoying me.”

“This was a waste of time,” Quinn said before turning around.

“Don’t you get tired of it?” The Mack asked. “Caring about everything so much. You’re saying we’re lame, but you don’t even know what to do with yourself half the time. Do you even know who you are?”

Quinn turned sharply. “I’m not like any of you.”

“So who are you like?” Sheila asked. She took out cigarette and put it in her mouth, then took out another one and gestured it towards Quinn. “Why are you here?”

“Smoke or get out. Before I hurt you,” Sheila said.

Quinn wasn’t scared. She didn’t really care about any of it, but her heart was still racing from the mere mention of Rachel. She wanted to forget that part of herself, she wanted to not care about it anymore.

She took the cigarette. “I was bored.”

Sheila rolled her eyes and took a bottle of whiskey out of her bag. She opened it quickly and then knocked a good two shots back. “Then lets have some fun,” she said.

Quinn hesitated for only a second before taking the bottle from her and drinking some herself. If caring was what was hurting her, then she’d do anything that she could to stop it until she could get the hell out of the town.

* * *

**one day before regionals**

“Break for 80 seconds,” Coach Sue calls out.

Quinn’s starting to get used to the collapsing of the pyramid again, as well as the brutal nature of Coach Sue. She’s panting significantly less than most of the other girls at least.

Quinn's always had an extreme amount of discipline.

“Between this and glee rehearsals I think I’m about to collapse,” Santana murmurs.

“Sounds like a personal problem,” Quinn says, taking a small sip of her water. Gulping it would show more weakness than she’d like.

Santana bumps her shoulder against Quinn’s. “Please bitch, don’t act like you’re not dying. And you don’t even have to worry about the extra Trouble Tones practice.”

“A small animal died in my brain,” Brittany says, rubbing her head.

Quinn doesn’t question it as she sees the doors to the gym opening up. Rachel comes through, smiling and looking up at Quinn with a bottle in her hands.

“She’s in love with you,” Santana says.

“Shut up,” Quinn murmurs as she goes up to Rachel. “Same thing?” she asks with a sly smile.

“A little more lemon,” Rachel answers.

“Wrap it up!” Coach Sue calls. “And you…” she looks over towards Rachel and scowls. “Stop flirting with my cheerleaders.”

Rachel huffs and looks back towards Quinn. “See you later,” she says with a quick grin.

“Yeah, later.” And by now Quinn is smiling stupidly wide. She straightens out her face as Rachel leaves.

“If you don’t do something about that I’m gonna kill both of you. It’s gross,” Santana says as she stretches out.

“Say it a little louder,” Quinn hisses as she looks around at the rest of the team. No one is paying them any mind, too exhausted to care today. “She just broke up with Finn.”

“It’s been a week,” Brittany says. “That’s like a year in McKinley time.”

Santana nods. “Yeah. You got with Puck like right after Finn.”

“Yeah. This situation is just a little bit different.”

“But you’re not saying it isn’t a possibility,” Santana questions. “You still ghosting everyone after graduation?”

Quinn sighs and combs her hair back with her hands. “No,” she says, begrudgingly.

Brittany jumps up and hugs her. “Yay!”

“Bout time you got some sense. I mean talk about dramatic,” Santana says.

“Ladies!” Sue yells. “It’s been 84 seconds and you are not in pyramid formation. Go to Lesbos after we win our Championship."

* * *

**fifth week of last summer**

“Kentucky?” Quinn asked. “To go to a strip club?” She looked at Sheila, cigarette hanging from between her fingers. She still wasn’t used to these girls -_ the skanks_. She’d only been hanging out with them a little over a week, but they were all unpredictable.

“I heard about them on Yelp. They don’t ID, and they have a new boy called White Chocolate,” Sheila practically growled the last part.

“Don’t think Quinn’s into that,” The Mack said nonchalantly.

Quinn froze and then took a long drag of her cigarette. “I have to tell my mom.”

Ronnie flicked her thumb against the lighter, tilting her body away from the wind so she could catch a flame for her cigarette. “Well tell your fucking mom and lets go.”

Quinn grinded her teeth together in effort not to say anything. She was realizing that the girls could grow increasingly violent sometimes. Quinn could get violent too, but she had to be in the mood.

She took out her phone and dialed her mother’s number. Dialing was usually faster than going to her name in the contacts.

“Quinn?” her mother asked. Her voice was heavy and slow. She’d been drinking. Quinn could always tell when her mother was sober by how quick she’d speak. If she was sober she would have said something like: _Quinn, what are you up to? Do you need anything?_

“Hey. I’m going out with some friends.”

“Mm. Friends.” Quinn could hear the sound of her mother’s tongue separating from the roof of her mouth. A deep breath was followed by a yawn. “You sleeping over?” she said lazily. 

Quinn looked over towards The Mack. “Yeah.”

“Well have fun sweetie.”

“Okay.” And that was the end of it.

Quinn could have laughed. She would never have gotten away with that years ago. Not with her father around.

“Fucks sake, lets go,” Sheila said, dropping her cigarette. “Shotgun.”

And so they headed to Kentucky, to go to a male strip club.

“Why you still around us?” Ronnie asked, settled next to Quinn in the back of the car. “No offense but your face kinda makes me wanna hit you - and I think you feel the same.”

Quinn slouched back in her seat, crossing her arms over one another. “I’m bored,” is all she said.

“You’re gay right?”

“No,” Quinn said quickly, squirming. “It doesn’t even matter. Why are we even talking?”

“No one cares,” she said before rummaging through her bag. “All that matters is that your up for a good time. I can’t sit back here sober, not with you.”

Quinn smiled at that. She liked that Ronnie didn’t like her, that they could just exist with this mutual irritation of each other and there was nothing fake about it. It made Quinn believe that she didn’t care.

Quinn lifted her hand out and took the bottle of Captain Morgan.

“Be careful with that shit,” The Mack said. “I can’t go back on parole. They’re gonna start looking at the home situation.”

“I got it,” Ronnie said as she looked at Quinn. “Don’t be stupid.”

Quinn took a large gulp, nearly gagging at the burn she felt go down her throat.

By the time they reached the club, Quinn was drunk enough to not want to cover her face in shame. She wasn’t belligerent, though. If she was they wouldn’t have been able to go in.

The bouncer asked for ten dollars each. No ID needed.

He stopped Quinn just as she was going to enter. “You know there’s better men on the outside?” he said. The guy had to be at least early 40’s. It made Quinn feel sick, but she couldn’t cause a scene. She was angry; but if she did that before they got to see the show, every one would turn against her. A strange fear settled deep in Quinn.

She didn’t want the skanks against her. In some way, she once again wanted approval. Even if it was from them.

Quinn said nothing and walked inside, settling down next to Sheila. A man with long brown hair was thrusting his hips against the floor. Quinn could tell he was flaccid. She sneered.

“What’s the point of this?” she slurred. “It’s disgusting. It smells like sweat.”

“The point is I want to ride him like a stallion,” Sheila said. “Now shut up, or buy me a lap dance.”

Quinn gagged and stood up. She wouldn’t be buying a lap dance, but she’d be buying a drink. “Do you have any wine coolers?” she asked.

The bartender was another guy who had to be mid forties with brown hair and a thick beard. He looked up at Quinn and smirked, his lip ring sliding as he did so. It was nothing short of pathetic. “Anything for the lady. It’s on the house.”

Quinn wanted to get the fuck out of there, but instead she took her drink and went back to the seat behind Ronnie.

Ronnie was tossing bills as the last stripper left the stage.

“Tarzan has gone back to the jungle!” the announcer called out, “But it’s okay cos now we got something real sweet for ya’ll. Some White Chocolate!”

Ronnie and Sheila squealed as The Mack sat further back and licked her lips. Quinn looked at the stage, bored.

That is until Sam walked out onto the stage. Quinn froze and thought about going back to the bar. Hiding herself before they could notice one another, but just as she was making for a move; Sam locked eyes with her.

He paused, mid-thrust towards Ronnie’s face.

“Quinn?”

“Shit.”

Quinn sighed and sat down as Sam continued to dance.

He slowly made his was over towards her. “Sorry,” he murmured before rolling his hips towards her. “Quinn what the hell are you doing here? You’re… different?”

“I could say the same about you, Sam.”

“Quinn this is-” he took her hand and placed it under his shirt. Quinn jerked her hand away. “I have to work,” he muttered.

“Then work. I’m perfectly okay with pretending we don’t know each other. Just like I’m perfectly okay with not telling anyone back home. But I might feel differently if you don’t leave me alone.”

He stared at her, hard. Quinn hated the intensity. She didn’t want to answer his questions.

“What’s happened to you?”

“What’s happened to you?” she asked back.

He pulled away and moved towards The Mack. They didn’t speak for the rest of the night.

When she came home, her mother didn’t ask any questions.

* * *

**regionals**

Quinn watches as Rachel gets ready from across the room. Every one is running around, putting on costumes for the show, practicing vocals, getting into makeup.

Rachel is staring at herself, a tissue in one hand. Half of her makeup has been completely wiped off. Her lips are pouted out as she looks closely at her reflection.

“You didn’t have to wipe it off completely,” Kurt huffs. “Now I have to start from scratch after I do Sam's makeup."

Quinn walks forward inside of the tiny dressing room. “I’ve got it,” Quinn says.

“You?”

Quinn huffs. “I was captain of the Cheerios, I think I know a thing or two about stage makeup.” She’s done her own pretty effortlessly, and after living with someone like Franny she supposes she’s actually quite a bit of an expert.

“Okay, good. I’ll be in the boys dressing room if you need me.” Kurt kisses Rachel’s clean cheek and walks away.

“What happened?” Quinn asks as she sits down on the chair next to Rachel’s. She'd been doing her own makeup by Santana, and by the time she was done half of Rachel’s face was wiped clean. She kind of looks like she has two faces right now, but both are nice. Rachel’s got a nice face.

“I did it, but then Kurt complained . I’ve done show makeup. I _know_ how to do stage makeup,” she says as she wipes the rest of her face off. Quinn didn’t see how the makeup looked originally, at least not completely. “He’s just being fussy.”

It’s cute seeing her all irritated. Quinn remembers when she used to find it completely annoying.

“He didn’t mean anything by it,” Quinn says softly, but she understands why Rachel’s so tense. They’ve got some serious competition. “So, are you going to do your own makeup?”

Rachel turns. “Would you mind?”

Quinn reaches forward and grabs a brush. “We’re gonna win,” she says calmly as she dabs a brush in eyelid primer. “Close your eyes.”

Rachel closes them, and Quinn leans in further towards her. She grabs her face and brushes lightly against her eyelids as she starts to blend in the primer. Rachel’s skin is hot. Quinn wonders how she’s not sweating.

“I know,” Rachel says, but Quinn watches the bob of her throat as she swallows.

Quinn strokes a larger brush with Rachel’s foundation. “You can open your eyes for now,” she says. Rachel looks at her, and Quinn pays close attention to Rachel’s skin. “You don’t really need it,” she says. “You have really good skin.” Quinn clears her throat as she finishes up the foundation. It’s like she can physically feel Rachel’s gaze.

“Really?” she asks.

Quinn nods and starts to brush blush over her cheeks, though they already seem slightly red.

She dips her small brush into gray eye shadow and leans in even closer as she squints. “Close,” she says. Rachel closes her eyes and Quinn begins to do her complete eye makeup. “Nice eyes too,” she mutters.

There’s lots of noise in the room from the other girls getting ready, so no one but Rachel hears Quinn.

“They’re closed,” Rachel says with a small laugh.

“They’re big. Expressive.” Quinn says with a shrug. “Someone can feel when you stare at them.”

Rachel shrugs. “Must be a ninth sense. Another talent of mine.”

“Shut up,” Quinn says, laughing a little. “You can open,” Quinn says once she’s finished with Rachel’s eyes.

“Since you asked.” Rachel opens her eyes and smiles. “Don’t make me look ugly,” she says, warningly.

“How’d you catch on?” Quinn teases, bringing a tube of lipstick forward. “It’s harder than I thought it’d be. Pucker.”

Rachel’s puckers her lips as Quinn glides the stick across them. She’s always had a love/hate relationship with Rachel’s mouth. Her lips have always looked too soft.

“Rub together.” Rachel does, but a little bit catches to the side of her mouth. Quinn reaches forward and wipes it carefully with her thumb, brushing the edge of Rachel’s lip. She drops her hand and meets Rachel’s eyes.

It’s strange, but Quinn doesn’t feel uncomfortable or awkward staring at her. Rachel looks good. Really good. Amazing.

Quinn snaps out her daze and goes for the brow gel to finish everything off; and then she’s ready. Rachel looks in the mirror and grins.

“Thank you,” she says.

“You look really pretty,” Quinn says as she stands up. “Ready?

“Yeah.” Rachel grabs her hand and stands up.

* * *

They win at Regionals, just like Quinn said they would.

When Rachel sings she looks at Quinn sometimes. It feels different than when she looks at everyone else, even Finn. More personal. And now Quinn knows that she can’t just stop seeing Rachel. She needs to see Rachel, and she needs Rachel to see her. Her heart thrums, chest heavy with something watery. An entire ocean, maybe.

It’s at Regionals, when Rachel’s arms are wrapped tightly around Quinn just after they’ve won that Quinn thinks she has to tell Rachel about her feelings. She’ll drown if she doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm gonna post updates to this blog: https://reginasblazers.tumblr.com 
> 
> just want to have a place where I can post a semi posting schedule/ make announcements if there are gonna be any delays or anything. It's an old blog I don't use anymore, so I'm just gonna have fic update stuff on it.


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